Campbell was struck with the name. “Lulie— Lulie Thayer,” he repeated. “How pretty it is.” And, full of his great discovery, he felt he must confide it to Mayne, at least. “Do you know,” he went on, “she is really very pretty too? I didn’t think so at first, but after a bit I discovered that she is positively quite pretty —in an odd sort of way.”
Mayne laughed again. “Pretty, pretty!” he echoed in derision. “Why, lieber Gott im Himmel, where are your eyes? Pretty! The girl is beautiful, gorgeously beautiful; every trait, every tint, is in complete, in absolute harmony with the whole. But the truth is, of course, we’ve all grown accustomed to the obvious, the commonplace; to violent contrasts; blue eyes, black eyebrows, yellow hair; the things that shout for recognition. You speak of Miss
