I was unused to this.

I was a talker, proud of my conversational powers.
I had looked at her before; now I cast a sideways, critical glance at her.

I came out of my moodiness to wonder what type this was.

She had good hair, good eyes, and some charm.Yes.And something besides--a something--a something that was not an attribute of her beauty.

The modelling of her face was so perfect and so delicate as to produce an effect of transparency, yet there was no suggestion of frailness; her glance had an extraordinary strength of life.