Yes--they spoke of things that must be forgotten and unuttered; what should I do with these tell-tale eyes of mine?
I thought, and soon decided.

Nothing was easier than to feign weak sight-sight that was dazzled by the heat and brilliancy of the southern sunshine, I would wear smoke-colored glasses.

I bought them as soon as the idea occurred to me, and alone in my room before the mirror I tried their effect.

I was satisfied; they perfectly completed the disguise of my face.

With them and my white hair and beard, I looked like a well-preserved man of fifty-five or so, whose only physical ailment was a slight affection of the eyes.
The next thing to alter was my voice.