Her small nose was full of expression, and was not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be.

Her rich brown hair waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her; and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it would.

John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and truly very good to look at.

He knew little of the artist's rules of beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations to Dr.Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with interest many photographs and casts from the antiques.

But to his mind the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs.Goddard, who resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen.
And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look like what she had expected.