“There’s something in that,” admitted Eustace reflectively. “It’s very good of you to be so sympathetic and interested.”
“My dear fellow ... anything that I can do ... where did you meet her first, for instance?”
“At a dinner....” Eustace Hignett broke off abruptly. He had a good memory and he had just recollected the fish they had served at that dinner—a flabby and exhausted looking fish half sunk beneath the surface of a thick white sauce.
“And what struck you most forcibly about her at first? Her lovely hair, I suppose?”
“How did you know she had lovely hair?”
“My dear chap, I naturally assumed that any girl with whom you fell in love would have nice hair.”
“Well, you are perfectly right, as it happens. Her hair was remarkably beautiful. It was red....”
“Like autumn leaves with the sun on them!” said Marlowe ecstatically.
Hignett started.
“What an extraordinary thing! That is an absolutely exact description. Her eyes were a deep blue....”