His eyes were never still, and his brows
were very black, and not shaped like other people's; they were neither
straight, like Julia Clifford's, for instance, nor arched like Walter's;
that is to say, they were arched, but all on one side. Each brow began
quite high up on the temple, and then came down in a slanting drop to the
bridge of the nose, and lower than the bridge. There, if you will give me
a pencil I will draw you one of his eyebrows in a minute."
She drew the eyebrow with masterly ease and rapidity.
"Why, that is the eyebrow of Mephistopheles."
"And so it is," said Grace, naively. "No wonder it did not seem
human to me."
"I am sorry to say it is human. You can see it in every convict jail.
But," said he, "how came this villain to sit to you for his portrait?"
"He did not, sir. But when he was struggling with me to keep me from
rescuing my father--"
"What! did the ruffian lay hands on you?"
"That he did, and so did Mr. Bartley. But the villain was the leader of
it all; and while he was struggling with me--"
"You were taking stock of him? Well, they talk of a Jew's eye; give me a
woman's.
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