Her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose.
Admiration was, I repeat, the first impression.

But the second was criticism.

There was something subtly wrong with the face, some coarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some looseness of lip which marred its perfect beauty.

But these, of course, are afterthoughts.

At the moment I was simply conscious that I was in the presence of a very handsome woman, and that she was asking me the reasons for my visit.