"Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. He was entranced as she walked towards him. Not us.
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