Complexion, pale for this
climate, with a sort of silvery shine about it. Manner charming,
voice charming, bearing fit for a grand seigneur; and that's what he
is, or something like it, unless, as I rather incline to suspect,
he's the biggest scoundrel unhung."
"Oh, Miss Belcher!" protested Plinny. "When you agreed with me that
he might have sat for a portrait of a gentleman of the old school!"
"Tut, my dear! When I saw that you had lost your heart to him as
soon as he set foot on deck! Did I say 'of the old school'?
Yes, indeed, and of the very oldest; and, in fact, quite possibly the
Old Gentleman himself."
Now, either I had spoiled Captain Branscome's temper for the day, or
something in this speech of Miss Belcher's especially rasped it.
"But who is this man?" he demanded, in a sharp, authoritative voice.
Miss Belcher stepped back half a pace. I saw her chin go up, and it
seemed to grow square as she answered him with a dangerous coldness.
"I beg your pardon. I thought I told you that he gave his name as
Dr. Beauregard."
"You had no business, ma'am, to allow him on board the ship."
"No business?"
"No business, ma'am. I have just been having words with young Harry,
here, over his disobedience this afternoon; but this is infinitely
more serious.
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