'Ah, I see. . . . What is he like, Owen?'

'I can't exactly tell you his appearance: 'tis always such a
difficult thing to do.'

'A man you would describe as short? Most men are those we should
describe as short, I fancy.'

'I should call him, I think, of the middle height; but as I only see
him sitting in the office, of course I am not certain about his form
and figure.'

'I wish you were, then.'

'Perhaps you do. But I am not, you see.'

'Of course not, you are always so provoking. Owen, I saw a man in
the street to-day whom I fancied was he--and yet, I don't see how it
could be, either. He had light brown hair, a snub nose, very round
face, and a peculiar habit of reducing his eyes to straight lines
when he looked narrowly at anything.'

'O no. That was not he, Cytherea.'

'Not a bit like him in all probability.'

'Not a bit. He has dark hair--almost a Grecian nose, regular teeth,
and an intellectual face, as nearly as I can recall to mind.'

'Ah, there now, Owen, you _have_ described him! But I suppose