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Updated: June 14, 2025
Certainly, between this pink-faced clergyman, with his deceptively mild appearance, and the gaunt, bronzed and steely-eyed Burmese commissioner, there was externally little in common; but it was some little nervous trick in his carriage that conjured up through the smoke-haze one distant summer evening when Smith had paced that very room as Eltham paced it now, when before my startled eyes he had rung up the curtain upon the savage drama in which, though I little suspected it then, Fate had cast me for a leading rôle.
She saw that she had dressed her idol with attributes of her own making. When had Lily ever really felt, or pitied, or understood? All she wanted was the taste of new experiences: she seemed like some cruel creature experimenting in a laboratory. The pink-faced clock drummed out another hour, and Gerty rose with a start.
The look of impatience, which had left her face as the bell sounded, was back now. She suppressed it with an effort as her visitor entered. Lord Mountry was a blond, pink-faced, fair-moustached young man of about twenty-eight a thick-set, solemn young man. He winced as he caught sight of the picture, which fixed him with a stony eye immediately on his entry, and quickly looked away.
Enormous American guns, trailed behind lorries driven by pink-faced boys swayed from side to side on the greasy road, and threatened to crush her like an egg-shell. Everywhere she saw a wild disregard for life, everywhere she winced before the menace of speed, of weight, of thundering metal.
"I wish it had burned you to the bone," she interrupted spitefully. Master Villon shook his head. "It burned deeper than that, believe me. Outside, on God's steps, stood a yellow-haired, pink-faced puppet who greeted her and they ambled away together, I on their heels.
"Why in heck don't we run this here pink-faced conjure-doctor outen the mountings?" demanded Caleb, who had drunk more than a half-pint. "He's a-castin' spells over the boy. He's a-practisin' of deviltries." "We're a-goin' ter see about thet right now," was the response. "We don't 'low to let hit run on no further."
The Englishman was a pink-faced old gentleman in a shabby Norfolk suit and with the very thinnest legs on record "mocking-bird legs," Fernolia called them. His daughter was a gray-eyed Minerva with the skin of a baby and the walk of a Highland piper. They found Carolina people charming, and they secured some valuable data for their book, "The Beginnings of American History."
Then I heard her give a little sigh; and instantly I forgot everything my hatred, my two lost dances, the pink-faced blighter everything. Everything but that I loved her. "Tired, Eva?" I said. "Perhaps I am," she replied. "Yes, I am, Julian." "Give me this one," I whispered. "We'll sit it out." "Very well. It's so hot in here. We'll go and sit it out in a hansom, shall we? I'll get my cloak."
There is often tennis going on on the neat lawn beyond, and we see visions of large, pink-faced girls and callow youths taking exercise. The hostess gushes at us: "Dear Mrs. Gurrage, so good of you to come and this is Mrs. Gussie?" I have no intention of freezing people, but they are hideously ill at ease with me, and say all kinds of foolishnesses from sheer nervousness.
The bright moonlight was streaming through the windows, throwing into strange light and shadow the heterogeneous objects that lined the long walls Greek statues and busts of Roman emperors; low cabinets filled with curiosities, natural and antiquarian; tropical birds and huge horns of beasts; Hindoo gods and strange shells; swords and daggers, and bits of chain-armour; Roman lamps and tiny models of Greek temples; and, above all these, queer old family portraits of little boys and girls, once the hope of the Cheverels, with close-shaven heads imprisoned in stiff ruffs of faded, pink-faced ladies, with rudimentary features and highly-developed head-dresses of gallant gentlemen, with high hips, high shoulders, and red pointed beards.
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