The pose of her abnormally slim body
had all the grace of a figure on a Grecian vase in its clean curves and
easy balance.
Her head was beautifully set upon a long throat, and her feet were
conspicuously slender and delicate in their high French boots of
champagne-coloured kid. Her face, which as far as he could see was of
a startling pallor, was obscured by a white lace veil tied loosely
round her Panama hat, and left to fall down her back in floating ends;
and she wore a rather crumpled, cream-coloured dress.
She stood, looking round, as if uncertain how to act, evidently in
expectation of someone to meet her. No one appeared and she moved off
in search of a porter. Emile followed at a reasonable distance. Books
he found desperately dull, but humanity in any shape or form was
attractive to him, and the girl's appearance appealed to a deeply
embedded love of the exotic and mysterious.
He watched with cynical amusement as she tried to explain her wishes in
French to a porter, who spoke only the dialect of Catalonia. Her voice
finally decided Emile on his line of conduct.
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