author - "Charles Reade"
The Morning-Room Of A Large House In Portman Square, London.
A Gentleman In The Prime Of Life Stood With His Elbow On The Broad
Mantel-Piece, And Made Himself Agreeable To A Young Lady, Seated A
Little Way Off, Playing At Work.
To The Ear He Was Only Conversing, But His Eyes Dwelt On Her With
Loving Admiration All The Time. Her Posture Was Favorable To This
Furtive Inspection, For She Leaned Her Fair Head Over Her Work With A
Pretty, Modest, Demure Air, That Seemed To Say, "I Suspect I Am Being
Admired: I Will Not Look To See: I Might Have To Check It."
The Gentleman's Features Were Ordinary, Except His Brow--That Had Power
In It--But He Had The Beauty Of Color; His Sunburned Features Glowed
With Health, And His Eye Was Bright. On The Whole, Rather Good-Looking
When He Smiled, But Ugly When He Frowned; For His Frown Was A Scowl,
And Betrayed A Remarkable Power Of Hating.
The Morning-Room Of A Large House In Portman Square, London.
A Gentleman In The Prime Of Life Stood With His Elbow On The Broad
Mantel-Piece, And Made Himself Agreeable To A Young Lady, Seated A
Little Way Off, Playing At Work.
To The Ear He Was Only Conversing, But His Eyes Dwelt On Her With
Loving Admiration All The Time. Her Posture Was Favorable To This
Furtive Inspection, For She Leaned Her Fair Head Over Her Work With A
Pretty, Modest, Demure Air, That Seemed To Say, "I Suspect I Am Being
Admired: I Will Not Look To See: I Might Have To Check It."
The Gentleman's Features Were Ordinary, Except His Brow--That Had Power
In It--But He Had The Beauty Of Color; His Sunburned Features Glowed
With Health, And His Eye Was Bright. On The Whole, Rather Good-Looking
When He Smiled, But Ugly When He Frowned; For His Frown Was A Scowl,
And Betrayed A Remarkable Power Of Hating.