His hair was light, his whiskers a little darker, and his blonde moustache curled up towards his eyes like corkscrews or a ram's horns (congratulate me on my simile).

A very merry laughing eye he had, too, blue of course, with that coloured hair; altogether a very pleasant-looking man, and yet whose face gave one the idea that it was not at all times pleasant, but on occasions might look terribly tigerish and fierce.

A man who won you at once, and yet one with whom one would hardly like to quarrel.

Add to this, also, that when he opened his mouth to speak, he disclosed a splendid set of white teeth, and the moment he'd uttered a word, a stranger would remark to himself, "That is an Irishman." Sam, who had ensconced himself beside Alice, looked up the long table towards him with astonishment.

"Why, good gracious, Captain Desborough," he said, "can that be you ?" "I have been waiting," said Desborough, "with the greatest patience to see how long you would have the audacity to ignore my presence.