" "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. 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. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. O'Higgins wandered into this street and that, studying the signs and resenting the Britisher's wariness in using too much tin and paint.
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