"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.
"What an extraordinary thing! That is an absolutely exact description.
Her eyes were a deep blue…."
"Or, rather, green."
"Blue."
"Green. There is a shade of green that looks blue."
"What the devil do you know about the colour of her eyes?" demanded
Eustace heatedly. "Am I telling you about her, or are you telling me?"
"My dear old man, don't get excited. Don't you see I am trying to construct this girl in my imagination, to visualise her? I don't pretend to doubt your special knowledge, but after all green eyes generally do go with red hair and there are all shades of green. There is the bright green of meadow grass, the dull green of the uncut emerald, the faint yellowish green of your face at the present moment…."
"Don't talk about the colour of my face! Now you've gone and reminded me just when I was beginning to forget."