But Juliet! Harry, imagine a girl, hardly seventeen years of age, with a little, flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips that were like the petals of a rose.

She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen in my life.

You said to me once that pathos left you unmoved, but that beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears.

I tell you, Harry, I could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me.

And her voice--I never heard such a voice.