Her hair was in a long braid.
"Now, are you ready ?" she challenged.
"Good Lord, have mercy on me!" gasped Philip.

"You look as if you might fly, Josephine!" Her signal to the dogs was so low he scarcely heard it, and they sped along the white and narrow trail into which Josephine had directed them.

Philip fell in behind her.

It had always roused a certain sense of humour in him to see a woman run.

But in Josephine he saw now the swiftness and lithesome grace of a fawn.