midday
`` Was she a fair woman , '' asked the voice , `` or dark , like me ? '' Mr. Neal paused , and looked up . The doctor was still at the bed head , with his fingers mechanically on the patient 's pulse . The child , missing his midday sleep , was beginning to play languidly with his new toy . The father 's eyes were watching him with a rapt and ceaseless attention . But one great change was visible in the listeners since the narrative had begun . Mrs. Armadale had dropped her hold of her husband 's hand , and sat with her face steadily turned away from him The hot African blood burned red in her dusky cheeks as she obstinately repeated the question : `` Was she a fair woman , or dark , like me ? ''