It seemed then that Jean saw her face for the first time.

She was beautiful as he had never known beauty.

Limned against that scene, she gave it life--wild, sweet, young life--the poignant meaning of which haunted yet eluded him.

But she belonged there.

Her eyes were again searching his, as if for some lost part of herself, unrealized, never known before.
Wondering, wistful, hopeful, glad-they were eyes that seemed surprised, to reveal part of her soul.
Then her red lips parted.