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. Moore , '' said Anne . `` She is very lovely , is n't she ? '' `` I -- I never saw anything like her , '' he answered , rather dazedly . `` I was n't prepared -- I did n't expect -- good heavens , one DOES N'T expect a goddess for a landlady ! Why , if she were clothed in a gown of sea-purple , with a rope of amethysts in her hair , she would be a veritable sea-queen . And she takes in boarders ! '' `` Even goddesses must live , '' said Anne .
`` And XXXXX is n't a goddess .
Anne Leslie Moore amethysts boarders goddesses landlady sea-purple sea-queen voile