My death, probably. Jack Sheppard warns Thames Darrell 284 VIII. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met.
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