Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. You wish another name? Eh bien. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot.
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