James Boyle O'Higgins knew little or nothing of the South Seas, but he knew human beings, all colours. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. Nevertheless though nearly six feet high, and correspondingly proportioned, she was a model of symmetry, and boasted, with the frame of a Thalestris or a Trulla, the regular lineaments of the Medicean Venus. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. “It was,” she admitted. “Oh, much better. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. CHAPTER XII.
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