Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. We don’t want no trouble, do we?’ At sight of him, everything went out of Melusine’s head but the thought of Jack Kimble. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows.
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