Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. He personated over there a millionaire named Meysey Hill, and it seems that he induced Annabel to go through some sort of marriage with him at the Embassy.
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