They had come back to their old camping-ground, rather dissatisfied with the squire.
'Speak to him yourself, Kiomi,' said I; 'whatever you ask for, he can't refuse anything to such eyes as yours.' 'You!' she rallied me; 'why can't you talk sensible stuff!' She had grown a superb savage, proof against weather and compliments.
Her face was like an Egyptian sky fronting night.

The strong old Eastern blood put ruddy flame for the red colour; tawny olive edged from the red; rare vivid yellow, all but amber.

The light that first looks down upon the fallen sun was her complexion above the brows, and round the cheeks, the neck's nape, the throat, and the firm bosom prompt to lift and sink with her vigour of speech, as her eyes were to flash and darken.

Meeting her you swore she was the personification of wandering Asia.

There was no question of beauty and grace, for these have laws.
The curve of her brows broke like a beaten wave; the lips and nostrils were wide, tragic in repose.