The woman stood there with a long rubber slicker tight-buttoned from
collar to hem. Below that Brent saw rubber boots. She stood with a
lance-like straightness, very tall, very pliant, and as he stared with
a fixity which would have amounted to impertinence had it not been
disarmed by amazement she looked past him and through him as if he were
himself without substance.
Then she took off the heavy Nor'wester that had shaded her face, and
the firelight fell on masses of hair deeply and redly gold; upon
features exquisitely modeled, in no wise masculine or heavy, yet full
of dominance. Duskily-lashed eyes of dark violet were brimming with a
contagious energy and her rounded chin was splendidly atilt. A
sculptor might have modeled her as she stood, and entitled his bronze
"Victory."
Her coloring too was rich, almost dazzling, and Brent thought that he
had never seen such arresting beauty or such an unusual though
harmonious blending of feminine allurement--and masculine spirit.
Though in height she approached the heroic of scale, the first summary
of impression which he drew from feature and coloring was "delicately
gorgeous.
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