A little negress, with a spirit that soared free of boards of directors, had tried to tie her closely-clipped wool with bits of coloured string; an Italian woman had a geranium over her ear; and at the end of the last row of chairs, towering above the others, was a creature of a kind of challenging, unforgetable beauty whom, with a thrill of certainty, St.George realized to be her whom he had come to see.
So strong was his conviction that, as he afterward recalled, he even asked no question concerning her.

She looked as manifestly not one of the canaille of incorrigibles as, in her place, Lucrezia Borgia would have looked.
The woman was powerfully built with astonishing breadth of shoulder and length of limb, but perfectly proportioned.

She was young, hardly more than twenty, St.George fancied, and of the peculiar litheness which needs no motion to be manifest.

Her clear skin was of wonderful brown; and her eyes, large and dark, with something of the oriental watchfulness, were like opaque gems and not more penetrable.

Her look was immovably fixed upon St.George as if she divined that in some way his coming affected her.
"We will have our hymn first." Mrs.Manners' words were buzzing and pecking in the air.