The whole expression of her face was piquancy that
might be subdued by tenderness or made malevolent by anger. At present
it was a salad in which the oil and vinegar were deftly combined.
The astute feminine reader will of course understand that this is the
ordinary superficial masculine criticism, and at once make up her mind
both as to the character of the young lady and the competency of the
critic. I only know that I rather liked her. And her functions are
somewhat important in this veracious history.
She looked up, started to her feet, leveled her black brows at the
intruder, but, at a sign from her uncle, showed her white teeth and
spake.
It was only a sentence, and a rather common-place one at that; but if
she could have put her voice upon her canvas, she might have retrieved
the Garcia fortunes. For it was so musical, so tender, so sympathizing,
so melodious, so replete with the graciousness of womanhood, that she
seemed to have invented the language. And yet that sentence was only
an exaggerated form of the 'How d'ye do,' whined out, doled out, lisped
out, or shot out from the pretty mouths of my fair countrywomen.
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