His eyes, expressive now of the usual masculine impersonality and authority, might reveal more subtle emotions under favorable circumstances, for they were large, and of a clear, brown color; they seemed unexpectedly to hesitate and speculate; but Katharine only looked at him to wonder whether his face would not have come nearer the standard of her dead heroes if it had been adorned with side-whiskers.

In his spare build and thin, though healthy, cheeks, she saw tokens of an angular and acrid soul.

His voice, she noticed, had a slight vibrating or creaking sound in it, as he laid down the manuscript and said: "You must be very proud of your family, Miss Hilbery." "Yes, I am," Katharine answered, and she added, "Do you think there's anything wrong in that ?" "Wrong?
How should it be wrong?
It must be a bore, though, showing your things to visitors," he added reflectively.
"Not if the visitors like them." "Isn't it difficult to live up to your ancestors ?" he proceeded.
"I dare say I shouldn't try to write poetry," Katharine replied.
"No.

And that's what I should hate.

I couldn't bear my grandfather to cut me out.