The daughter was pretty--yes, distinctly pretty. She attracted Guy's
attention at once by the piercing keenness of her lustrous dark
eyes, and the delicate olive-brown of her transparent complexion.
Her expression was merry, but with a strange and attractive undertone,
he thought, of some mysterious charm. A more taking girl, indeed,
now he came to look close, he hadn't seen for months. He congratulated
himself on his garrulous old lady's choice of a bench to sit upon,
if it helped him to an introduction to the beautiful stranger.
But before he could even be introduced, the pretty girl with the
olive-brown complexion had held out her hand to him frankly, and
exclaimed in a voice as sunny as her face--
"I don't need to be told your friend's name, I'm sure, Mrs. Godfrey.
He's so awfully like him. I should have known him anywhere. Of
course, you're Mr. Waring's brother, aren't you?"
Guy smiled, and bowed gracefully; he was always graceful.
"I refuse to be merely MR. WARING'S BROTHER," he answered, with
some amusement, as he took the proffered hand in his own warmly.
"If it comes to that, I'm Mr. Waring myself; and Cyril, whom you
seem to know already, is only my brother."
"Ah, but MY Mr.
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