She winked affirmatively.
"Poor devil," muttered Hugh.

"I suppose he was just beginning to feel sick when you yanked him out, as if you were telling him the boat was on fire." "Yanked him out?
I did nothing but rap on his door.

If he were sick, why did he open it and stare at me in such a remarkably healthy fashion ?" "Because you rapped, I suspect.

It's no wonder that he stared at a beautiful young lady who had the temerity to visit him before breakfast.
Nice-looking fellow, though, I'll say that much for your sake, sister.
And what's more, I believe he's an American," said Hugh, surveying the stranger critically.
"I haven't observed his face," she responded curtly.
"How did you happen to recognize him?
By his shoes?
You naturally looked down when you saw your mistake, of course, but I don't see how you can get a glance of his shoes now, under the table." "I mean I have not noticed whether his face is handsome, Hugh." "Better take a look then.

He's particularly good-looking with that piece of beefsteak in his check." Grace glanced slyly at the man across the table, noting his pale cheeks and the dark rings beneath his eyes.