"What do you really think?"
All at once, without turning, the girl on the trunk, twisting anxiously before the mirror, exclaimed:
"Winona, what do you really think?"
"It doesn't show from here."
"How can you see from there? Come over nearer!"
Winona Horning, taller, more thoughtful in her movements, rose reluctantly, fixing a strand of jet-black hair which had strayed, and seated herself according to the command of a little finger. Her complexion was very pale against the black of her hair, her eyes were very large, given to violent and sudden contrasts, more intense and more restless than her companion's.
"And now?" said Doré, lifting the glowing skirt the fraction of an inch.
"Still all right."
"Really?"