In the midst of them stood the victor in his shirt-sleeves, conspicuous in the crowd by reason of his great height--a splendid figure of manhood with a careless freedom of bearing that was in its way superb.
He was turned away from the door at their entrance, and Dot saw only a massive head of straw-coloured hair above a neck that was burnt brick-red.

Then, laughing at some joke, he wheeled round again to the table; and she saw his face....
It was the face of a Viking, deeply sunburnt, vividly alive.

A fair moustache covered his upper lip, and below it the teeth gleamed, white and regular like the teeth of an animal in the wilderness.

He had that indescribable look of morning-time, of youth at its best, which only springs in the wild.

His eyes were intensely blue.