"Gaya described you."
He burst out into a big laugh.
"My word! Did Gaya tell you I usually went about with nothing on or in these evil-smelling rags?"
"It is enough that I recognized you," she said primly. She added, as an after-thought: "They didn't tell me you were so beautiful."
"Me—beautiful?"
"As far as your figure goes."
"And my face?"
She looked at him whimsically.
"No, not exactly." She slipped down into the long grass beside him with an effortless, unconscious grace. "We're rather like each other," she went on, "both of us—how shall I say?—plain, and both of us quite lovely in our way. A perfect body is worth more than a perfect nose."
"Yes," he agreed. His voice sounded suddenly thick and tired and he looked away from her. "You're not alone, are you?" he asked.