‘What was Leonardo to you?’ Melusine was instantly on the defensive. A sob was strangled in her throat. They even talked about friendship. His hands came up, his face broke apart. . Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. 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. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. E.
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