Twain's End - Pg 69

   She genuinely liked Jean, though there was something about her that made Isabel sad. Outwardly, Jean seemed to have everything--a world-famous father, money, intelligence, and, with her strong chin and Greek-goddess nose, healthy good looks. At age twenty-three, she was still a tomboy, not only in her appearance--she refused to wear a corset under her plain white shirtwaist and brown corduroy skirt, or to fashion her hair in anything but a single dark braid--but in her ungraceful movement as well. She spoke in the same way she moved: bluntly, plainly, no mincing allowed. Yet as sturdy as she looked, there was something vulnerable about her, something broken, like the stray dogs and cats she was continually nursing back to health, like the dray horses in the city for which she bought freedom whenever she could.