"Couldn't you write, 'Venus-of-Milo-like'?" he inquired. "That is laconic."
"I could—if it's true. But if you mean it for praise—I—don't think any modern woman would be flattered."
"I always supposed that she of Milo had an ideal figure," he said, perplexed.
She wrote, "A good figure." Then, propping her rounded chin on one lovely white hand, she glanced at the next question:
"Hands?"
"White, beautiful, rose-tipped, slender yet softly and firmly rounded—"
"How can they be soft and firm, too, Mr. Gatewood?" she protested; then, surprising his guilty eyes fixed on her hands, hastily dropped them and sat up straight, level-browed, cold as marble. Was he deliberately being rude to her?