She had black hair and blue eyes-of the kind that turns violet in a novel-and a beautiful white skin, lovely hands and feet, a perfect figure, and features chiselled and finished and polished and turned out with such singular felicitousness that one gazed and gazed till the heart was full of a strange jealous resentment at any one else having the right to gaze on something so rare, so divinely, so sacredly fair-any one in the world but one's self!
"Peter Ibbetson"
George Du Maurier