Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Norman Holt: A Story of the Army of the Cumberland
And Miss Lane was a damsel many a man would have followed fi1rther, a maid many a man would be pardoned for singling out, even in the midst of a bevy of Kentucky women on their native heath. She was above the middle height, slender, yet with rarely rounded form. Her hands and feet were long and slim and exquisitely moulded. Her hair was almost a chestnut brown, soft, shimmering and gloriously abundant, but her face was one no man could look at and forget oval, delicately chiseled, with the softest curves and merriest dimples. Her eyes were radiant, of deep est blue, shaded by long, dark, curving lashes and overarched by thick, heavy brows of deeper brown than her glossy hair. The nose, straight and small, one never seemed to see simply because of the beauty - the witching beauty - of the soft, sweet mouth, between whose red portals gleamed two rows of snowy, faultless teeth. Set such a head on a full rounded neck, above pretty, sloping shoulders, all dazzling white, and there is witchery enough to compel the regard of an anchorite, if ever such a being existed, and to try the asceti cism of St. Anthony.
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