As Dierdre led Brian in, the lady at the desk glanced up at the
newcomers, and the officer in the big chair turned his head. The woman
was young and very remarkable looking, with the pearl-pale skin of a
true Parisian, large dark eyes under clearly sketched black brows, and
masses of prematurely white hair.
For a second, Dierdre thought this beautiful hair must be blonde, as the
woman could not be more than twenty-eight; but the light from the
window fell full upon the silver ripples, blanching them to dazzling
whiteness.
"What a lovely creature," the girl thought. "What can have happened to
turn her hair white?"
As for the man, Dierdre took an instant dislike to him, for his
selfishness. His face was burned a deep, ruddy brown, and his eyes, lit
by the red glow of the fire, were bright with a black, bead-like
brightness. They stared so directly, so unblinkingly at Brian, that
Dierdre was vexed. She was his chosen friend, his confidante, his
champion now! Not even Sirius could be more fiercely devoted than she,
who had to atone for her past injustice. She was angry that blind Brian
should be thus coldly stared at, and that a man in better health than he
should calmly sprawl in the best chair, screening the fire.
By this time, Padre, you will have learned enough about Dierdre
O'Farrell to know what her temper is! She forgot that a stranger might
not realize Brian's blindness at first sight in a room where the dusk
was creeping in, and she spoke sharply, in her almost perfect French.
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