She was spare of form, black hair gathered with no ornament yet kept from falling simply by its own weight.

Her stillness suggested a mind pacing slowly across wide inner rooms.

One felt, looking at her, that wisdom had chosen an unadorned lodging, as if to prove it needed no gilt frame.

The lavender scent arrived before her voice, soft as library dust disturbed by considerate fingers.

In her eyes rested that steady candle-glow which shows the page without dazzling the reader.