The voice was untrained but this did not matter.

It was like the trill of a bird, sweet, flexible and pure toned.
"A voice like that ought not to be battered about.

It's meant for something better than bawling to a mob.

What says your lordship ?" Bolingbroke's face had become grave, almost stern.

His high, somewhat narrow, slightly retreating forehead, long nose and piercing eyes lent themselves readily to severity.