’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. He jumped back, cursing. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. Mr. I step on my neighbour's feet, return and apologize because my acquired conscience orders me to do so; whereas you might pass on without caring if your neighbour hopped about on one foot. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment.
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