The girl let the braid drop back with a sigh that seemed to come from her very toes and to exhale forth all the sorrows of the ages.
"Yes, it's red," she said resignedly.
"Now you see why I can't be perfectly happy.
Nobody could who has red hair.
I don't mind the other things so much-the freckles and the green eyes and my skinniness.
I can imagine them away.
I can imagine that I have a beautiful rose-leaf complexion and lovely starry violet eyes.
But I CANNOT imagine that red hair away.
I do my best.
I think to myself, 'Now my hair is a glorious black, black as the raven's wing.' But all the time I KNOW it is just plain red and it breaks my heart.