Tall and lithe and tawny-skinned, she rose to face him. Her shining blue-black hair tumbled silkily to her slim waist, framing a face as finely and proudly chiseled as a piece of ancient sculpture—broad clear forehead, delicately arched nose, full mobile mouth, stubborn chin, long smooth throat running down toward her high firm breasts. Her eyes were wide-set, dark and starry brilliant as the desert nights; her lips were like red flame.
When she spoke, it was music purring under the wind that whimpered outside and rattled the window sash.
"Welcome, stranger."
Alfric gulped, licked his lips, and slowly recovered his voice: "Thank you, my lovely." He moved closer to her. "I had not—not thought to find one like you—here."
"But now that you have—" She came closer, and her smile blinded him—"now that you have, what will you do?"
"What do you think?" he laughed.
She bent over and blew out the candle.
II
Alfric lost desire for sleep, the girl being as skilled in the arts of love as she was beautiful. But later they fell to talking.