"Five foot eight, nine, or ten?" he interrupted quietly.
"How can one tell to an inch or two?" rejoined Polly crossly. "He was between colours."
"What's that?" he inquired blandly.
"Neither fair nor dark—his nose—"
"Well, what was his nose like? Will you sketch it?"
"I am not an artist. His nose was fairly straight—his eyes—"
"Were neither dark nor light—his hair had the same striking peculiarity—he was neither short nor tall—his nose was neither aquiline nor snub—" he recapitulated sarcastically.
"No," she retorted; "he was just ordinary looking."
"Would you know him again—say to-morrow, and among a number of other men who were 'neither tall nor short, dark nor fair, aquiline nor snub-nosed,' etc.?"
"I don't know—I might—he was certainly not striking enough to be specially remembered."