” She had a moment of sheer panic at the thing she had done. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars.
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