She seemed to be a sort of extemporized tableau vivant.

Rowland's position made it becoming for him to speak to her without delay.

As she looked at him he saw that, judging by the light of her beautiful eyes, she was in a humor of which she had not yet treated him to a specimen.

In a simpler person he would have called it exquisite kindness; but in this young lady's deportment the flower was one thing and the perfume another.

"Tell me about these people," she said to him.