And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Her sister had told him that it was true. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea.
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