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. “On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six months will be up. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight.
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