Explore "Her Sailor" by Marshall Saunders on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She hurried through her second toilet in order that she might go and see Miss Marsden before the breakfast-bell rang. On her way to her a few minutes later, she met Mr. Delessert, who was coming from his room. His attire was, as usual, irreproachably elegant. There was not a wrinkle in the dark blue clothes that fitted so admirably his straight, well-proportioned figure. The knot in his necktie was perfection itself; and his carefully brushed hair and smooth moustache threw her recent attempts at hair-brushing quite into the shade.
In the midst of her newly conceived horror of the man, she wondered whether he would dare to speak to her. Not he; with a complete control over his features, he absolutely looked through her blushing, indignant face to the wall behind. Judging by his expressionless countenance there was not a living creature near him.