"That," said Thorndyke, "is natural enough, and not discreditable. But you must overcome his scruples somehow. I expect you will be able to. You are a plausible young gentleman, as I remember of old, and you seem to have established yourself as quite the friend of the family."
"They are rather interesting people," I explained; "very cultivated and with a strong leaning toward archeology. It seems to be in the blood."
"Yes," said Thorndyke; "a family tendency, probably due to contact and common surroundings rather than heredity. So you like Godfrey Bellingham?"
"Yes. He is a trifle peppery and impulsive but quite an agreeable, genial old buffer."
"And the daughter," said Jervis, "what is she like?"
"Oh, she is a learned lady; works up bibliographies and references at the Museum."
"Ah!" Jervis exclaimed, with disfavor, "I know the breed. Inky fingers; no chest to speak of; all side and spectacles."
I rose artlessly at the gross and palpable bait.
"You're quite wrong," I exclaimed indignantly, contrasting Jervis's hideous presentment with the comely original. "She is an exceedingly good-looking girl, and her manners all that a lady's should be. A little stiff, perhaps, but then I am only an acquaintance—almost a stranger."
"But," Jervis persisted, "what is she like, in appearance I mean.
Short? fat? sandy? Give us intelligible details."