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Updated: June 4, 2025
There's something a little like Trilby about her; she does seem to be singing under enchantment. What she really is like, though, is a lantern-jawed young Botticelli Madonna. She's lost a goodish bit of flesh, I should say, and her color's not so high, and she might easily have walked out of one of the canvases in the Pitti or the Ufizzi, or the Belli Arti.
"Well, have you it in any quality of goods?" I asked. "Yes; we've got it finer." And he took down a piece of calico, and unrolled a yard or two of it on the counter. "That's not this shade," I said. "No," said he. "The goods is finer and the color's better." "I want it to match this," I said. "I thought you weren't particular about the match," said the salesman.
"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded. "Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say." "Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?"
"We never fished it out of the river. I guess you'll find it all right, Sam, somewhere in the slip." In a brief time Sam's possession was rescued from its place of peril, but the boatman's lamentations were the last words the boys heard when they departed. "Color's all washed out.
Abruptly he stepped up close to the glass and examined his visage with unconcealed excitement. "Good God!" he murmured. Then, with much the expression Crusoe must have worn when he spied the footprint, he turned to his sister, and, grasping a lock of hair upon his brow, bent his head towards her, and demanded "What color's that?" "Dear me," she said, "it looks quite brown.
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