The Family
Her colouring was altogether different; dusky black
hair, deep dark eyes, a soft white skin with rich
brunette red in her cheeks and lips. Nearly everyone
considered Rosamond brilliantly beautiful.
Her father, though he was very proud of her, demurred from the general opinion. He thought her
too tall, with a rather awkward carriage. She
stooped a trifle, and was wide in the hips and shoulders. She had, he sometimes remarked to her
mother, exactly the wide femur and flat shoulder-
blade of his old slab-sided Kanuck grandfather.
For a tree-hewer they were an asset. But St. Peter
was very critical. Most people saw only Rosamond's smooth black head and white throat, and the
red of her curved lips that was like the duskiness of dark, heavy-scented roses.
Kathleen, the younger daughter, looked even younger than she was-had the slender, undeveloped figure then very much in vogue. She was pale, with light hazel eyes, and her hair was hazel-coloured with distinctly green glints in it. To her father there was something very charming in the curious shadows her wide cheekbones cast over her cheeks, and in the spirited tilt of her head. Her figure in profile, he used to tell her, looked just like an interrogation point.
Mrs. St. Peter frankly liked having a son-in-law who could tot up acquaintances with Sir Edgar from the Soudan to Alaska. Scott, she saw, was going
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