A young man, a large man, and strong.

The first thing which she saw as distinctive was the way his smile lived on in his eyes after it had died on his lips, as if his thought was smiling at the smile.
Even in that first outraged, panic-stricken moment Katie Jones knew she had never known a man like that.
"Here he is, Aunt Kate!" cried her young nephew, dancing up and down.
"This is him!" It was not a presentation calculated to set Katie at ease.

She sought refuge in a frigid: "I beg pardon ?" But that was quite lost on Worth.

"Why, Aunt Kate, don't you know him?
You said you'd rather see him than anybody now living! Don't you know, Aunt Kate--the man that mends the boats ?" It seemed that in proclaiming their name for him Worth was shamelessly proclaiming it all: her conversations, the intimacy to which she had admitted him, her delight in him--yes, _need_ of him.

"But I thought," she murmured, as if in justification, "that you had a long white beard!" And so she had--at times; then there had been other times when he had no beard at all--but just such a chin.
"I am sorry to be disappointing," the stranger replied--with his voice.