Her hair waved back from her forehead with natural grace; her small feet, with perfect ankles, made her foothold secure and sedately joyous.

Her brown hand--yet not so brown after all--held her hat lightly, and was, somehow, like a signal out of a world in which his hopes were lost for the present.
She was dearer to him than all the rest of the world; and he had in his hand what kept them apart--a sentence of death, unless he escaped from the wanton calling him to fulfil duties into which he had been tricked.
Luzanne Larue had a terrible hold over him.

He gripped the letter in his pocket as a Hopi Indian does the body of a poisonous snake.

The rosy sunset gave the girl's face a reflected spiritual glamour; it made her, suddenly, a bewildering figure.

Somehow, she seemed a great distance from him--as one detached and unfamiliar.
He suddenly felt she knew more than it was possible she should know.