‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly. 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. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May.
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