It was a pity, old Lady Belstone whispered to her spinster sister,
that John was not a Crewys, for he had a remarkably fine head, and had
he been but a little taller and slimmer, would have been a credit to
the family.

Certainly John was not a Crewys. He possessed neither grey eyes, nor a
large nose, nor the height which should be attained by every man and
woman bearing that name, according to the family record.

But though only of middle size, and rather square-shouldered, he was,
nevertheless, a distinguished-looking man, with a finely shaped head
and well-cut features. Clean shaven, as a great lawyer ought to be,
with a firm and rather satirical mouth, a broad brow, and bright
hazel eyes set well apart and twinkling with humour. No doubt John's
appearance had been a factor in his successful career.

The sisters, themselves well advanced in the seventies, spoke of him
and thought of him as a young man; a boy who had succeeded in life in
spite of small means, and an extravagant mother, to whom he had
been obliged to sacrifice his patrimony. But though he carried his
forty-five years lightly, John Crewys had left his boyhood very far
behind him. His crisp dark hair was frosted on the temples; he stooped
a little after the fashion of the desk-worker; he wore pince-nez; his
manner, though alert, was composed and dignified. The restlessness,
the nervous energy of youth, had been replaced by the calm confidence
of middle age--of tested strength, of ripe experience.

On his side, John Crewys felt very kindly towards the venerable
ladies, who represented to him all the womankind of his own race.