Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. The Ragged Edge. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room.
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