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Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. He was in a curious state of desperation. “They are coming past our table. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. Wood required little pressing. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. "You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard.
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