Ellen is something. Not a knockout, but she carries herself with a confidence I hadn't found in a woman before. If I had to pinpoint it, I'd say this is the reason I married her.
Climbing onto the bus, she drops her coins into a glass box next to the driver. She is unaware, it seems, of the Spanish men staring at her as she finds a seat for us in the back. I can't be jealous; her light hair and skin are rare in this country.