She pushed her chair from the table, and stood by me quiet.

Tall and slender, she stooped slightly, as if she were not strong enough to stand upright.

Her dress was a buff-colored cambric, trimmed with knots of ribbon of the same color, dotted with green crosses.

It harmonized with her colorless, fixedly pale complexion.
I counted the bows of ribbon on her dress, and would have counted the crosses, if she had not interrupted me with, "What do you think of me ?" "Do you ever blush, Verry ?" "I grow paler, you know, when I blush." "What do you think of me ?" "As wide-eyed as ever, and your eyebrows as black.

Who ever saw light, ripply hair with such eyebrows?
I see wrinkles, too." "Where ?" "Round your eyes, like an opening umbrella." We dispersed as our talk ended, in the old fashion.