"Yes, she is good-looking, as you call it, Fin," he said.
"What is she like? Is she tall and fair—I suppose so, that's the style that fetches most men."
"N-o," he said. "She is not fair—not what one would call fair."
"Dark?" and she flashed her brilliant eyes up at him, and then at a mirror opposite her.
"N-o, not dark, I think; I can't tell. Her hair is dark."
"As mine?" she asked.
He looked down at her as if he had forgotten the color of her hair, and she felt the look like a dagger stab.
"Yes, but she has blue or gray eyes."
She nodded.
"I knew," she said, shortly, as if it cost her something to speak. "I know the sort of girl. I've seen 'em. Dark hair and bluish-gray eyes. Yes! And you fell in love with her at first sight. And—why don't you go on? I want to know all about her," and she laughed.