15/21 But I contrived to keep my doubts to myself, and went on packing my trunks with a grudging conviction that at least I was doing my duty. I was introduced to her by chance; I did not know her story, nor that she had a story, nor yet that she was connected with any people whose intimate acquaintance I was likely to make in the future. She wore a white Indian muslin, with a bunch of scarlet flowers in the bosom. We were sitting in a softly lighted corner, and her figure was in relief against a dark curtain. Her face was oval and olive, with an exquisite mingling of warmth and purity, depth and delicacy, in its tone. |