Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DARKE DARRELL. | 171 For elegance of attire, gracefulness of movement, per- fection of form, and loveliness of features, he had never seen her equal. He watched her as closely as politeness would permit, and felt himself unaccountably drawn to- ward her. Twice she passed him, leaning on the arm of a friend, so near to him that he was made aware of additional charms— teeth regular, and white as pearl; a sweet, liquid voice, a low, fascinating laugh, white, shapely hands, sparkling with diamonds. Once she looked directly at him with a little start, and so keenly that he colored, for he construed it into an intima- tion that she wished him to know that she considered his stare ill-bred and impudent. At the tea-table he caught her eyes again, and deep, black, sparkling, wondrously fascinating black eyes they were. He knew that she remembered having seen him on the veranda, but there was nothing of displeasure or re- proof in her glance. In the ball-room she stood opposite to him in the dance. Once more their eyes met, and a thrill passed over his frame. The glance indicated admiration, sympathy, in- terest—something more—and that was what puzzled and embarrassed him. | As they passed each other in the maze of the dance, he heard her say to her partner: “‘T never lose a friend through any fault of mine, ‘Friends all the way through,’ is my motto.” The words were spoken in a clear, distinct tone. Were they meant for him? He felt every vein tingle. He fan- cied the mystery was solved. The figure completed, she stopped just opposite him again, for she was in the same set. He looked up, and their eyes met again—a waiting, yearning, inquiring look in hers. Eomicbooks (E(0)