Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. ’ ‘Idiot. “All your dreadful scientific things?” he said, with a smile that Miss Klegg thought extraordinarily kindly. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man.
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