I lost that optic in Pernambuco and couldn't find a glass substitute to fit my face.

Indeed, this was the only one in town, made for a fat Spanish lady who turned it down because it was not exactly the right color." "You certainly have been--eh--unfortunate," murmured Uncle John.
"See here," said Gys, taking a leather book from an inside pocket of the coat that hung on a peg beside him, and proceeding to open it.

"Here is a photograph of me, taken before I embarked upon my adventures." Uncle John put on his glasses and examined the photograph curiously.

It was a fine face, clean-cut, manly and expressive.

The eyes were especially frank and winning.
"How old were you then ?" he asked.
"Twenty-four." "And now ?" "Thirty-eight.