"They are blue. I have never seen such blue eyes in my life before."
"You are quite sure that they are not green?"
Norman was not at all sure that they were not: they seemed to him to change colour like little bright clouds, and shone at that moment like a lustrous emerald. But he simply said that they were not green, as he could only make very simple phrases in the language of Alsander.
"Are you going to stay long in this country?" inquired the girl.
"I think I shall have to."
He carved a dust pattern with his stick quite nervously, daring no more to look at her eyes. He asked her name.
"Peronella," she said. "And yours?"
"My name is Norman."
"Nor-mano, how nice!" said the girl, who seemed to think that this bashful northerner needed encouragement. "Normano. I shall always call you Normano."
"Always?" said Norman, looking up quickly.