Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse.
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