Explore "The Mystery of a Turkish Bath" by Eliza Margaret Jane Humphreys on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The second room differed in no way from the first, except in the matter of heat.
The beautiful stranger floated in -- her face all the lovelier for the faint rosy flush that glowed through the clear skin. If Mrs Ray Jefferson's admiration was envious, at least it was genuine. She had never really believed in perfect feminine beauty before -- beauty that shone supreme without the aid of dress and frippery -- but here it was -- a glowing and palpable fact. The simple white drapery with its border of scarlet floated with the grace of its own perfect simplicity around that perfect form, and never was royal mantle more splendid than the rippling hair that crowned her head and fell in its luxuriance of curls and waves to her feet. As they again seated themselves side by side, Mrs Jefferson remembered that she was not yet acquainted with the nationality of the stranger. She hastened to repair the error of such ignorance.