There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. As soon as he gets into blue water, he'll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe. You know you do, Annabel.
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