“Etta Sydney Bamborough.”
Catrina had evidently never heard the name before. It conveyed nothing to her. Womanlike, she went back to her first question.
“What is she like?”
Paul hesitated.
“Tall, I suppose?” suggested the stunted woman at his side.
“Yes.”
“And graceful?”
“Yes.”
“Has she—pretty hair?” asked Catrina.
“I think so—yes.”