There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. ” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. His expression altered. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones.
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