His laughter disconcerted her. "I mean a college doctor," she said
sulkily.
"McGill, Bellevue," said Ralph.
"I don't know those," she said. "Have you any writings?"
Ralph stared at her. "What a question from an Indian!" he thought. He
began to be aware that he was dealing with a distinct individuality,
and for the first he perceived the classic beauties obscured by the
grotesque outer semblance. The anatomist in him judged and approved
the admirable flowing lines of her body, and the lover of beauty
thrilled. One of her greatest beauties was in the graceful poise of
her head on her neck. Indian women commonly have no necks to speak of.
His gaze rose to her eyes and lost itself for a moment. All the
Indians he had seen hitherto had hard, flat, shallow eyes; hers had
depth and purpose and feeling. "Extraordinarily beautiful eyes!" he
thought, with the start of a discoverer.
His good humor restored, he showed her his diplomas, following the
script with a forefinger, and reading aloud.
"I can read," she said calmly.
Ralph felt rebuked.
"But that is fonny printing," she confessed.