Now , ` fess . '' Freda put away her cup and saucer , got up , and stood by the fireplace , with one arm outstretched along the quaintly carved old mantel . She laid her head down on its curve and looked expectantly at Roger . `` I have seen my ideal , Freda , '' said Roger gravely . Freda lifted her head and then laid it down again . She did not speak . Roger was glad of it . Even at the moment he found himself thinking that Freda had a genius for silence . Any other girl he knew would have broken in at once with surprised exclamations and questions and spoiled his story . `` You have not forgotten what my ideal woman is like ? '' he said . Freda shook her head . She was not likely to forget . She remembered only too keenly the afternoon he had told her . They had been sitting in the snuggery , herself in the inglenook , and Roger coiled up in his big pet chair that nobody else ever sat in . '' ` What must my lady be that I must love her ? ' '' he had quoted . `` Well , I will paint my dream-love for you , Freda . She must be tall and slender , with chestnut hair of wonderful gloss , with just the suggestion of a ripple in it . She must have an oval face , colourless ivory in hue , with the expression of a Madonna ; and her eyes must be ` passionless , peaceful blue , ' deep and tender as a twilight sky . ''
Freda , looking at herself XXXXX her arm in the mirror , recalled this description and smiled faintly .
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