Its effect was the stronger in that one realised how
utterly at present she was unable to deal with it. Her very
helplessness was half of her power--half of her danger too. She was
most certainly not beautiful; her nose was too short, her mouth too
large, her forehead, from which her black hair was brushed straight
back, too high. Her complexion was pale and when she was confused,
excited, or pleased, the colour came into her face in a faint flush
that ebbed and flowed but never reached its full glow. Her hands were
thin and pale. It was her eyes that made her so young; they were so
large and round and credulous, scornful sometimes with the scorn of
the very young for all the things in the world that they have not
experienced--but young especially in all their urgent capacity for
life, in their confidence of carrying through all the demands that
the High Gods might make upon them. I knew as I looked at her that at
present her eagerness for experience was stronger, by far, than her
eagerness for any single human being.
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