Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. It’s not fair to you. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retroussé, (why have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature?) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders,—the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. I know South America and Canada like the lines in my hand. You’ve got me. None presented themselves to save him from that return.
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