"'Twas the eye-glass did it, Mac! A man shouldn't be allowed to play poker with an eye-glass; it's taking an undue advantage." McCutcheon smiled his dry smile and shot a quizzical glance at the neat young Englishman, who had become absorbed in one of his papers.
"Solid face, Blake!" he agreed.

"Nothing so fine as an eye-glass for sheer bluff.

What would Billy be without one?
Well, perhaps we won't say.

But with it you have no use for doubt--he's a diplomat all the time." The young man named Billy showed no irritation.

With the composure which he wore as a garment, he went on with his occupation.
For a time McCutcheon bore this aloofness, then he opened a new attack.
"What are you reading, my son?
Makes a man sort of want his breakfast to see that hungry look in your eyes.