She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. The future was not so black. 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 misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that.
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