The somber garments emphasized the colorless purity of her complexion; her hair was fair, and she had large, pathetic blue eyes.

Her beauty was somehow heightened by a hint of fragility: in her widow's dress she looked very forlorn and helpless; and the man yearned to comfort and protect her.
It did not strike him that she had stood for some moments enduring his compassionate scrutiny with exemplary patience.
"It's so nice to see you, George," she said.

"I knew you would come." He thrilled at the assurance; but he was not an effusive person.

He brought a chair for her.
"I started as soon as I got your note," he answered simply.

"I'm glad you're back again." He did not think it worth while to mention that he had with difficulty crossed a snow-barred pass in order to save time, and had left a companion, who resented his desertion, in the wilds; but Sylvia guessed that he had spared no effort, and she answered him with a smile.
"Your welcome's worth having, because it's sincere." Those who understood Sylvia best occasionally said that when she was unusually gracious it was a sign that she wanted something; but George would have denied this with indignation.
"If it wouldn't be too painful, you might tell me a little about your stay in Canada," he said by and by.