A newspaper man does n't have much chance for that sort of thing . I 've done a good deal of short story writing for the magazines , but I 've never had the leisure that seems to be necessary for the writing of a book . With three months of liberty I ought to make a start , though -- if I could only get the necessary motif for it -- the SOUL of the book . '' An idea whisked through Anne 's brain with a suddenness that made her jump . But she did not utter it , for they had reached the Moore house . As they entered the yard Leslie came out on the veranda from the side door , peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected guest . She stood just where the warm yellow light flooded her from the open door . She wore a plain dress of cheap , cream-tinted cotton voile , with the usual girdle of crimson . Leslie was never without her touch of crimson . She had told Anne that she never felt satisfied without a gleam of red somewhere about her , if it were only a flower . To Anne , it always seemed to symbolise Leslie 's glowing , pent-up personality , denied all expression save in that flaming glint . Leslie 's dress was cut a little away at the neck and had short sleeves . Her arms gleamed like ivory-tinted marble . Every exquisite curve of her form was outlined in soft darkness against the light . Her hair shone in it like flame . Beyond her was a purple sky , flowering with stars over the harbor . Anne heard her companion give a gasp . Even in the dusk she could see the amazement and admiration on his face . `` Who is that beautiful creature ? '' he asked .
`` That is Mrs. XXXXX , '' said Anne .
Anne Leslie Moore brain deal house idea magazines months voile