His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. The Master of the Mint. ’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said.
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