Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. With this person—who was no other than Mr. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days.
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