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Gordon drove up with a small, sandy-haired man who wore large horn-rimmed spectacles. He was introduced to Miss Hope and her sister as Mr. Lindley Vernet, and then the four went into the parlor and closed the door. "Children not wanted," said Mr. Gordon, grinning over his shoulder at Bob and Betty, left sitting on the porch. "Children!" snorted Betty, shaking an indignant fist in pretended anger.
Potts. In a shadowed corner of the shop sat Mr. Potts himself upon a high stool, a wizened little old man with a bent back, a bald head, and a hooked nose upon which were set a pair of enormous horn-rimmed spectacles that accentuated his general resemblance to an owl perched upon the edge of its nest-hole.
"I never see him," Davidson had to confess to his owner, who would peer at him silently through round, horn-rimmed spectacles, several sizes too large for his little old face. "I never see him." To me, on occasions he would say: "I haven't a doubt he's there. He hides. It's very unpleasant." Davidson was a little vexed with Heyst. "Funny thing," he went on.
He went off, puffing out cigarette smoke, shaking his head and audibly muttering, "Slow bunch, werry." He seemed to be of Una's own age, or perhaps a year older a slender young man with horn-rimmed eye-glasses, curly black hair, and a trickle of black mustache.
He dropped on the step just below her and mopped his forehead. Neither of them could say anything. He took off his horn-rimmed eye-glasses, carefully inserted the point of a pencil through the loop, swung them in a buzzing circle, and started to put them on again. "Oh, keep them off!" she snapped. "You look so high-brow with them!" "Y-yuh; why, s-sure!" She felt very superior.
He's my brother-in-law Sis's husband. Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't know. I'm not young, really, you know. Of course, I'm not twenty yet, but a girl can be under twenty and yet be a woman, can't she?"
The aristocracy of Canton is not one of wealth, but of intellectual honors; many of the Chinamen who are seen wearing horn-rimmed spectacles are either of a literary turn of mind or are attempting to pass as such. Seen from the city wall or any very high point, Canton seems a city of roofs, with scarcely an opening and not a vestige of green.
"Let me recommend," he said, studying the menu for a moment with his horn-rimmed eyeglass, "an artichoke with sauce mayonnaise, or would you prefer asparagus?" "I should prefer," she insisted, "an answer to my question." He looked at her steadily. His face was utterly impassive, his forefinger was tapping lightly upon the table-cloth. It was a look which she knew very well.
As the curtain fell again, and the star appeared, dragging after her a long, gaunt, exhausted, alarmed man in horn-rimmed spectacles, who had been lurking in a corner suffering from incipient nervous breakdown and illusions of catastrophe, he being the author, the body of the house rose and shouted. A hand fell on Banneker's shoulder. "Come behind at the finish?" said a voice.
He walked across the street to see Joe Wegg, and found the youth seated in a rocking-chair and looking quite convalescent. But he had company. In a chair opposite sat a man neatly dressed, with a thin, intelligent face, a stubby gray moustache, and shrewd eyes covered by horn-rimmed spectacles. "Good morning, Mr. Merrick," said Joe, cheerily; "this is Mr.
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