Loo was walking a few paces behind her, and when she stopped he stopped also.

She sat down on the low wall, but he remained standing.
Her profile, clear-cut and delicate with its short chin and beautifully curved lips, its slightly aquiline nose and crisp hair rising in a bold curve from her forehead, was outlined against the sky.

He could see the gleam of the western light in her eyes, which were half averted.

While she watched the sunset, he watched her with a puzzled expression about his lips.
He remembered perhaps the Marquis's last words, that Juliette was only a child.

He knew that she could in all human calculation know nothing of the world; that at least she could have learned nothing of it in the convent where she had been educated.