From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe.
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