Her rich golden-brown hair was waved becomingly over her forehead.
Her eyebrows were silky and delicately straight, her mouth delightful.
Her figure was girlish, but unusually dignified for her years.
"You know," he said suddenly, "you look to me just like one of those beautiful plants you have in the conservatory there, just as though you'd stepped out of your little glass home and blossomed right here.

I am almost afraid of you." She laughed outright this time--a low, musical laugh which had in it something of foreign intonation.
"Well, really," she exclaimed, "I had not noticed your fear! I was just thinking that you were quite the boldest young man I have ever met." "Come, that's something!" he declared.

"Couldn't we sit down somewhere in these wonderful gardens of yours and talk ?" She shook her head.
"But have I not told you already," she protested, "that I do not receive callers?
Neither does my father.

Really, your coming here is quite unwarrantable.

If he should return at this moment and find you here, he would be very angry indeed.