“Unlike her sisters’, her eyes were green— not the tarnished olive of her father’s, either, but a bottle green, nearly emerald. Ismay forced herself not to stare too long, but in the warm light, the hue was startling. Her hair… — Robyn J Pritzker Copy Share
“Unlike her sisters’, her eyes were green— not the tarnished olive of her father’s, either, but a bottle green, nearly emerald. Ismay forced herself not to stare too long, but in the warm light, the hue was startling. Her hair was more like Diarmid’s, unkempt and dark blond, a few shades lighter than Ismay’s own mousy brown. All the Underhills… — Robyn J Pritzker Copy Share
“The wallpaper was, as Morven had promised, pink, with little rosettes trailing up and down, and the bedspread and all the pillows were also pink, although nearer a blush than the sickly magenta doilies on the desk. When Ismay spotted the wildflowers in the corner, she exclaimed. Morven had made them sound like a few spare blooms, but this vase… — Robyn J Pritzker Copy Share