But, while her dark-blue eyes flamed with indignation, her anger was not such as to render her face less pleasant to look upon.

There are as many kinds of anger as there are of the sunsets with which they ought to end: Mary's anger had no hate in it.
I must now hope my readers sufficiently interested in my narrative to care that I should tell them something of what she was like.

Plainly as I see her, I can not do more for them than that.

I can not give a portrait of her; I can but cast her shadow on my page.

It was a dainty half-length, neither tall nor short, in a plain, well-fitting dress of black silk, with linen collar and cuffs, that rose above the counter, standing, in spite of displeasure, calm and motionless.