Excerpt from The Lion’s Mouse
Roger sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour, never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa F Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant’s tussle in California. But it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open. ’everything that followed came - from this.
Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering, rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then stopped.
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