Hector Macpherson remarked,
drawing himself up; "but if I took a fancy to a fellow who had
command of ready cash, I might choose to put him in the way of
feathering his nest with unexampled rapidity."
"Exceedingly disinterested of you," I answered drily, fixing my
eyes on his eyebrows.
The little curate, meanwhile, was playing billiards with Sir
Charles. His glance followed mine as it rested for a moment on
the monkey-like hairs.
"False, obviously false," he remarked with his lips; and I'm bound
to confess I never saw any man speak so well by movement alone;
you could follow every word though not a sound escaped him.
During the rest of that evening Dr. Hector Macpherson stuck to me
as close as a mustard-plaster. And he was almost as irritating. I
got heartily sick of the Upper Amazons. I have positively waded in
my time through ruby mines (in prospectuses, I mean) till the mere
sight of a ruby absolutely sickens me. When Charles, in an unwonted
fit of generosity, once gave his sister Isabel (whom I had the
honour to marry) a ruby necklet (inferior stones), I made Isabel
change it for sapphires and amethysts, on the judicious plea that
they suited her complexion better. (I scored one, incidentally, for
having considered Isabel's complexion.) By the time I went to bed
I was prepared to sink the Upper Amazons in the sea, and to stab,
shoot, poison, or otherwise seriously damage the man with the
concession and the false eyebrows.
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