She had black hair and a great deal of it, deep black, glossy, fine
of texture, and very well brushed. Black hair and those velvety
violet eyes, the long, black lashes of which were a most delicate
fringe! The brows were boldly dashed on against her smooth, almost
colorless, but perfect skin. Tunis had never before seen any
feminine loveliness the equal of this girl, this waitress in a cheap
restaurant! Yet a casual glance would scarcely have discovered much
attractive about the girl. Had he not looked so deep into her violet
eyes at the instant of their first meeting, perhaps the captain of
the _Seamew_ would never have given her the second glance. There was
a timidity about her, a shrinking in her very attitude, that would
naturally displease even an observant person.
Her nose, mouth, and chin, were only ordinarily well formed. Nothing
remarkable at all about them. But the texture of her skin, it seemed
to the man, was the finest he had ever beheld. Her figure was
slight, but supple. Every line, accentuated by the common black
dress she wore, was graceful. Her throat was bare and she wore no
ornament. His sharp gaze flashed to her left hand. It was guiltless
of any band. He had begun to flush at the thought which prompted
this last observation, and grabbed at a stained bill of fare to
cover his sudden confusion.
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