She had been washed, scrubbed, oiled, and perfumed to celebrate the night. Her auburn hair was in its natural state, curls hanging down to her waist as usual. She thought, perhaps, if she could see herself, she might actually be pleased with what she saw. Aunt Lindsay had always said she was pretty. Not  beautiful  like Sister Payne who had lovely freckles and a buxom chest, or  ugly like Sister Kane who had been cursed with blemishes and wiry looking hair, but pleasing to look at all the same.