He was a tall, well-groomed man, and his
lithe, athletic figure looked very well in its neat uniform.
A pretty little woman who sat at one of the writing desks in the
vestibule glanced at him more once. He was the sort of man that
women look at with interest. He had a long, shrewd, narrow head,
the hair dark and close-cropped, a big, bold, aquiline nose, and
a firm masterful chin, dominated by a determined line of mouth
emphasised by a thin line of moustache. He would have been very
handsome but for his eyes, which, the woman decided as she
glanced at him, were set rather too close together. She thought
she would prefer him as he was now, with his eyes glittering in
the fire-light through their long lashes.
But what was most apparent was the magnificent physical fitness
of the man. His was the frame of the pioneer, the man of the
earth's open spaces and uncharted wilds. He looked as hard as
nails, and the woman murmured to herself, as she went on with her
note, "On leave from the front."
Presently, the man stirred, stretched himself and finally sat up.
Then he started, sprang to his feet, and strode easily across the
vestibule to the reception desk. An officer was standing there in
a worn uniform, a very shabby kit-bag by his side, a dirty old
Burberry over his arm.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33