And as I looked at her, I marvelled that ever could I have thought the priestess more beautiful.

Into the eyes of O'Keefe rushed joy and an utter abasement of shame.
And from all about came murmurs--edged with anger, half-incredulous, tinged with fear: "Lakla!" "Lakla!" "The handmaiden!" She halted close beside me.

From firm little chin to dainty buskined feet she was swathed in the soft robes of dull, almost coppery hue.
The left arm was hidden, the right free and gloved.

Wound tight about it was one of the vines of the sculptured wall and of Lugur's circled signet-ring.

Thick, a vivid green, its five tendrils ran between her fingers, stretching out five flowered heads that gleamed like blossoms cut from gigantic, glowing rubies.
So she stood contemplating Yolara.