"Why?" asked Miss Schenectady, in some astonishment.
"Nothing," said Ronald, looking rather confused; "I did not quite catch
what you said."
There was a silence, and the old lady and the young man looked at each
other.
Ronald was a very handsome man, as Joe knew. He was tall and straight and
deep-chested. His complexion was like a child's, and his fine moustache
like silk. His thick fair hair was parted accurately in the middle, and
his smooth, white forehead betrayed no sign of care or thought. His eyes
were blue and very bright, and looked fearlessly at every one and
everything, and his hands were broad and clean-looking. He was perfectly
well dressed, but in a fashion far less extreme than that affected by Mr.
Topeka and young John C. Hannibal. There was less collar and more shoulder
to him, and his legs were longer and straighter than theirs. Nevertheless,
had he stood beside John Harrington, no one would have hesitated an
instant in deciding which was the stronger man. With all his beauty and
grace, Ronald Surbiton was but one of a class of handsome and graceful
men.
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