His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. She got up and unlocked the door.
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