The lips that Patricia had designated as "nice and crinkly" widened in a bright smile that held no hint of hauteur.,
She broke off suddenly at the swift remembrance of that futile search for health that had led the gentle Mrs. Carson to her grave in far-away Florence. She caught his hand under the table in a quick squeeze, while Elinor hurried into comparisons that claimed Judith's and Tom's close attention.,
Lastly Etwald. It is difficult to describe the indescribable. He was austere in face, like Dante, with hollow cheeks, and a pallid hue which told of midnight studies. If he had passions, they could not be discerned in his features. Eye and mouth and general expression were like a mask. What actually lay behind that mask no one ever knew, for it was never off. His slightly hollow chest, his lean and nervous hands, and a shock of rather long, curling hair, tossed from a high forehead, gave Etwald the air of a student. But there was something sinister and menacing in his regard. He looked dangerous and more than a trifle uncanny. Physically, mentally, morally he was an enigma to the bovine inhabitants of Deanminster and Hurstleigh..
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