Her neck and arms were bare, curved with the exquisite grace of a Grecian statue.

Her face was turned towards the light--a marvellous face, touched with a faint, triumphant smile.

She was dressed in a robe of pure white that fell around her in long, soft folds.
Merefleet gazed upon the wonder before him and asked himself one breathless question: "Is that--a woman ?" And the answer seemed to spring from the very depth of his being: "No! A goddess!" It was the most gloriously perfect picture of beauty he had ever looked upon.
The searchlight flashed on and the hotel garden was left in darkness.
A chill sense of loss swept down upon Merefleet, but the impression did not last.

He threw away his cigar with an impetuosity oddly out of keeping with his somewhat rugged and unimpressionable nature.

A hot desire to see that face again at close quarters possessed him--the face of the loveliest woman he had ever beheld.
He reached the hotel and sat down in the vestibule.