He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. His food lay untouched about his plate. She must not show anything. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud.
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