. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. Lucy entered and Mike followed. They were familiar but more massive. Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. 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. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. " He paused, and not without malice.
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