Her ears were like two little pearl shells, which the earrings she wore (though the handsomest properties in the theatre) only insulted.

She was dressed in long flowing robes of black, which she managed and swept to and fro with wonderful grace, and out of the folds of which you only saw her sandals occasionally; they were of rather a large size; but Pen thought them as ravishing as the slippers of Cinderella.

But it was her hand and arm that this magnificent creature most excelled in, and somehow you could never see her but through them.
They surrounded her.

When she folded them over her bosom in resignation; when she dropped them in mute agony, or raised them in superb command; when in sportive gaiety her hands fluttered and waved before her, like what shall we say ?--like the snowy doves before the chariot of Venus--it was with these arms and hands that she beckoned, repelled, entreated, embraced, her admirers--no single one, for she was armed with her own virtue, and with her father's valour, whose sword would have leapt from its scabbard at any insult offered to his child--but the whole house; which rose to her, as the phrase was, as she curtseyed and bowed, and charmed it.
Thus she stood for a minute--complete and beautiful--as Pen stared at her.

"I say, Pen, isn't she a stunner ?" asked Mr.Foker.
"Hush!" Pen said, "she's speaking." She began her business in a deep sweet voice.