The woman who approached me was certainly that, and of a most uncommon type.
There could not have been a greater contrast between brother and sister, for Stapleton was neutral tinted, with light hair and gray eyes, while she was darker than any brunette whom I have seen in England--slim, elegant, and tall.

She had a proud, finely cut face, so regular that it might have seemed impassive were it not for the sensitive mouth and the beautiful dark, eager eyes.

With her perfect figure and elegant dress she was, indeed, a strange apparition upon a lonely moorland path.

Her eyes were on her brother as I turned, and then she quickened her pace towards me.

I had raised my hat and was about to make some explanatory remark when her own words turned all my thoughts into a new channel.
"Go back!" she said.