She had fine eyes of an absolute grey, and dark hair parted in the middle and drawn down so as to make a triangle of a face which, left to itself, would have been square.

Her teeth spoilt her; the gaps among them looked like the front row of the stalls during the first scene of a revue, or the last scene of a play by Shakspere.

On the whole, she looked like the duckling of the story, serenely conscious of a secret swanhood.

She showed unnatural energy even in repose, and lived as though she had a taxi waiting at the door.
"Who's Elbert ?" asked Sarah Brown, and then wished she had not asked, for even without Peony's flush she should have guessed.
"'Arf a mo, kiddie, till I get rid of the milkman.

Come an' sit on the stairs, an' I'll tell you a tale.