A deep, bright green. Almost iridescent. She reminded Pip of an exotic parakeet as she flittered about the bookshelves. It was very plain, a shift dress, and it outlined how very tiny she was. Her hair was bleached white and cut in a very short crop. Her eyes were huge and wide with spidery lashes that must be false – no one could have lashes like that in real life – her face pale and otherwise un-made-up. He wondered what she was doing in the library. She didn’t seem to have a great deal of concentration. She would find a book, sit down and read for a while, then sigh, then close whatever she was reading, look up at the ceiling, then open a notebook and scratch away in it with a stubby old pencil, scribbling and crossing things out. Then she would stare around at the other people in the library. She didn’t seem to mind them noticing her staring; she smiled back, not disconcerted in the least. One woman couldn’t take it. She stood up and marched over to her.
