He seemed to be and probably
was about forty years old. His head was beautifully
shaped, the line of its profile--front, top, and
back--being perfect in intellectuality, strength and
symmetry. He was rather under the medium height,
about the same height as Mildred herself. He was
extremely thin and loosely built, and his clothes seemed
to hang awry, giving him an air of slovenliness which
became surprising when one noted how scrupulously
neat and clean he was. His brown hair, considerably
tinged with rusty gray, grew thinly upon that beautiful
head. His skin was dry and smooth and dead white.
This, taken with the classic regularity of his features,
gave him an air of lifelessness, of one burnt out by the
fire of too much living; but whether the living had been
done by Keith himself or by his immediate ancestors
appearances did not disclose. This look of passionless,
motionless repose, like classic sculpture, was sharply and
startlingly belied by a pair of really wonderful eyes--
deeply and intensely blue, brilliant, all seeing, all
comprehending, eyes that seemed never to sleep, seemed the
ceaselessly industrious servants of a brain that busied
itself without pause.
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