nearer to the window and, for a minute, applied her face to the glass.
"You see how he could see," I meanwhile went on.

She didn't move. "How long was he here?"

"Till I came out. I came to meet him."

Mrs. Grose at last turned round, and there was still more in her face.
"_I_ couldn't have come out."

"Neither could I!" I laughed again. "But I did come.
I have my duty."

"So have I mine," she replied; after which she added:
"What is he like?"

"I've been dying to tell you. But he's like nobody."

"Nobody?" she echoed.

"He has no hat." Then seeing in her face that she already,
in this, with a deeper dismay, found a touch of picture,
I quickly added stroke to stroke. "He has red hair, very red,
close-curling, and a pale face, long in shape, with straight,
good features and little, rather queer whiskers that are as red
as his hair. His eyebrows are, somehow, darker; they look
particularly arched and as if they might move a good deal.
His eyes are sharp, strange--awfully; but I only know clearly
that they're rather small and very fixed. His mouth's wide,
and his lips are thin, and except for his little whiskers he's