Jeanne nodded with a curl of disbelief in her red-rose mouth.
Yet as she said it she was thinking how glad she was that she herself was red-rose rather than lily!
But then I had a wonderful foundation to begin building upon: that day in the rose-arbour—the red-rose day of my life.
It is the red-rose light, upon the feet of those who dance upon graves.
Queeker never by any chance addressed the sun, or the red-rose, or anything else suggestive of health and vigour.
All her red-rose beauty had gone from the little maid along with her dancing lightness.