Her eyes were rather a wide oval in shape, clear and steady, with shadows of thought in their amber-brown depths.

They seemed to look through Jean, and his gaze dropped first.

Then it was he saw her ragged homespun skirt and a few inches of brown, bare ankles, strong and round, and crude worn-out moccasins that failed to hide the shapeliness, of her feet.

Suddenly she drew back her stockingless ankles and ill-shod little feet.

When Jean lifted his gaze again he found her face half averted and a stain of red in the gold tan of her cheek.