Her hands were thin and pale.

It was her eyes that made her so young; they were so large and round and credulous, scornful sometimes with the scorn of the very young for all the things in the world that they have not experienced--but young especially in all their urgent capacity for life, in their confidence of carrying through all the demands that the High Gods might make upon them.

I knew as I looked at her that at present her eagerness for experience was stronger, by far, than her eagerness for any single human being.

I wondered whether Trenchard knew that.

He was, beyond discussion, most desperately in love; the love of a shy man who has for so many years wondered and dreamed and finds, when the reality comes to him, that it is more, far more, than he had expected.