“You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. When first you left your home you had no idea that I was the hidden impulse. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition.
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