." He flashed his white teeth at us most agreeably, but the upper part of his face, the shadowed setting of his eyes, and the slight drawing in of his eyebrows gave a fatal suggestion.

I thought suddenly of the definition he applied to himself: "_Americain_, _catholique et gentil-homme_" completed by that startling "I live by my sword" uttered in a light drawing-room tone tinged by a flavour of mockery lighter even than air.
He insisted to us that the first and only time he had seen Allegre a little close was that morning in the Bois with his mother.

His Majesty (whom God preserve), then not even an active Pretender, flanked the girl, still a girl, on the other side, the usual companion for a month past or so.

Allegre had suddenly taken it into his head to paint his portrait.
A sort of intimacy had sprung up.

Mrs.Blunt's remark was that of the two striking horsemen Allegre looked the more kingly.
"The son of a confounded millionaire soap-boiler," commented Mr.Blunt through his clenched teeth.