The sun fell upon her brown hair, changing its chestnut to a ruddy bronze, vital and warm, with a look as though it breathed a fragrance of its own.

A little vagrant lock blew down at the temple, and Franklin yearned, as he always did when he saw this small truant, to stroke it back into its place.

The sun and the open air had kissed pink into the cheek underneath the healthy brown.

The curve of the girl's chin was full and firm.

Her tall figure had all the grace of a normal being.