Her figure was magnificent, and she swayed and swung from the hips with an easy grace, which reminded the onlookers of a panther's lithe movements.
And there was a good deal of the dangerous beast-of-prey beauty about Chaldea, which was enhanced by her picturesque dress.

This was ragged and patched with all kinds of colored cloths subdued to mellow tints by wear and weather.

Also she jingled with coins and beads and barbaric trinkets of all kinds.

Her hands were perfectly formed, and so doubtless were her feet, although these last were hidden by heavy laced-up boots.
On the whole, she was an extremely picturesque figure, quite comforting to the artistic eye amidst the drab sameness of latterday civilization.
"All the same, I suspect she is a sleeping volcano," whispered Miss Greeby in her companion's ear as they followed the girl through the camp.
"Scarcely sleeping," answered Lambert in the same tone.

"She explodes on the slightest provocation, and not without damaging results." "Well, you ought to know.