Kathleen Winsor

Her honey-coloured hair fell in heavy wavesbelow her shoulders and as she stared up at him her eyes, clear, speckled amber, seemed to tilt at the corners; her brows were black and swept up in arcs, and she had thick black lashesh. There was about her a kind of warm luxuriance, something immediately suggestive to the men of pleasurable fulfillment- something for which she was not responsible but of which she was acutely conscious.

Charm is the ability to make someone else think that both of you are pretty wonderful.

I think I'll name her Amber - for the colour of her father's eyes.

The only genius that's worth anything is the genius for hard work.