"Yes, beautiful, if you will."
"Her eyes—" I began, again interrupting Sarah.
"Oh, yes!" cried Sarah, impatiently. "Her eyes are fine enough, but their expression comes from their color, their size, and their preposterously long eyelashes. Black long lashes often give a radiance to the eyes which passes for expressiveness, and I doubt not—"
"Nonsense, Sarah!" I cried, half angrily. "Bettina's eyes are expressive in themselves. As you say, their soft dark brown is the perfection of color, and they certainly are large. But aside from all that, their expression is—"
"There is no intellect in them!" cried Sarah.
"There is tenderness, gentleness, love, and truth in them," I answered, with as careless an air as I could assume.
"Yes, there may be for a man, but I insist there is no real intellect."
"Well, Sarah," I answered, showing irritation despite an effort to appear indifferent, "it is my opinion that the possession of great intellectual power by a woman is the one virtue with which men, as a rule, find themselves most willing to dispense. It gives her too great an advantage."
"Yes, a soft, plump figure like Betty's, long lashes and red lips, surrounded by dimples, are apt to please a fool."
"But they're good in their way, Sarah, you'll admit—excellent!"
I retorted sharply, caring little if she saw that I was angry.