Her oval-shaped face was pale and without make-up.  Her hair was in a short, untidy bob and had not been washed for several days, the greasy fringe masking a few pimples on her forehead.  Strong black eyebrows arched over her hazel-green eyes, which kept dancing nervously towards the doorway of the café.  Her mouth was wide with thin lips and opened to reveal slightly crooked teeth.
    Her hands were small and delicate, with broken fingernails that had been bitten back to the quick.  She wore no jewelry and had no watch, glancing up at the clock above my head every few minutes.  I guessed she originally came from a well-to-do family in the suburbs judging from the very proper way she held her knife and fork.  Her upright posture too spoke of many lessons spent learning the correct way to sit and stand.  Someone had brought Dodo up to be a proper young lady, although a trace of Cockney in her voice suggested she had not always lived in the suburbs.
    She ate heartily, as if the simple fare were a rare treat.  After two full breakfasts, she placed her plate to one side and carefully wiped the corners of her mouth clean with a paper serviette.  Clasping he hands around a chipped enamel mug of steaming tea, Dodo looked at me.  "Well, what do you want to know?"