Among the dark, glowing beauties of sunny Italy she was like a bright sunbeam.
Her fair, piquant face was charming from its delicate bright coloring and gay smiles; her hair, of the rare color painted by the old masters, yet so seldom seen, was of pure golden hue, looking always as though the sun shone upon it.
Countess Rosali, there was no denying the fact, certainly did enjoy a little flirtation.

Her grave, serious husband knew it, and looked on quite calmly.

To his grave mind the pretty countess resembled a butterfly far more than a rational being.

He knew that, though she might laugh and talk to others, though she might seek admiration and enjoy delicate flattery, yet in her heart she was true as steel.

She loved bright colors, and everything else that was gay and brilliant.
She had gathered the roses; perhaps some one else had her share of thorns.
The fair, dainty lady had a great desire to see Mr.Thorne.