There
was a desperate attempt visible to combine an American shawl with the
habits of a mantilla, and it was always slipping from one shoulder,
that was so supple and vivacious as to betray the deficiencies of an
education in stays. There was a cluster of black curls around her
low forehead, fitting her so closely as to seem to be a part of the
seal-skin cap she wore.
Once, from the force of habit, she attempted to put her shawl over
her head and talk through the folds gathered under her chin, but an
astonished look from the Senator checked her. Nevertheless, he felt
relieved, and rising, motioned her to a chair with a heartiness he would
have scarcely shown to a Parisian toilleta. And when, with two or three
quick, long steps, she reached his side, and showed, a frank, innocent,
but strong and determined little face, feminine only in its flash of eye
and beauty of lip and chin curves, he put down the pamphlet he had taken
up somewhat ostentatiously, and gently begged to know her business.
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