Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off.
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