He could see her plainly.

In the light from the hall half her features were now thrown into Rembrandt lighting.

The roll of dark hair framed her face, highbred, aristocratic, yet wholly human and sweet.

Gravity sat on all her features; a woman for thought, said they.

A woman for dreams; so declared the fineness of brow and temple and cheek and chin, the hand--which, lifted now for an instant, lingered at her throat.