Manchurian Books

She was in the very noon of youth, but her eyes did not
wander after the habit of youth; they were direct and steady and a
bit critical, and she spoke slowly and with graceful sanity in a
voice that was without nationality. She might have been the
cultivated English-speaking daughter of almost any land of high
civilization, or she might have been its princess. Her face showed
her imaginative; her serene manner reassured one that she had not,
in consequence, to pay the usury of lack of judgment; she seemed
reflective, tender, and of a fine independence, tempered, however,
by tradition and unerring taste. Above all, she seemed alive,
receptive, like a woman with ten senses. And--above all again--she
had charm. Finally, St. George could talk with her; he did not
analyze why; he only knew that this woman understood what he said in
precisely the way that he said it, which is, perhaps, the fifth
essence in nature.
"May I tell you?" asked St. George eagerly. "She seemed to me a very
wonderful woman, Miss Holland; almost a woman of another world.


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