“Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome. Color, size, and trappings of the horse?”
“I didn’t notice particularly. Black, I think; yes, certainly, black. Rather a large horse. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Humph! Color, size, and trappings of the rider?”
“Reddish brown hair with a gloss like a butterfly’s wing,” said the artist with enthusiasm; “deep hazel eyes; clear sun-browned skin; tall—I should say quite tall—but so—so feminine that you wouldn’t realize her tallness. She was dressed in a light brown riding costume, with a toque hat, very simple, tan gauntlets, and tan boots; that is, the first time I saw her. The next time—”
“Hold on! A dressmaker’s catalogue is no good to me. I couldn’t remember it all. Was she in riding clothes on any of her later visits?”
“No.”
“Any scars or marks?”
“Certainly not!”
“That’s a pity; although you seem to think otherwise. Age?”