Explore "The Monster of Grammont" by George Goodchild on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Wallace had invariably found that the task of explaining any sort of mechanism to a woman was a most thankless one. He would not have been at all surprised if the beautiful Yolande had asked him what all the dials on the dash were for, and he did not for a moment expect her to evince any interest in what lay under the bonnet of the car. Pleased as he was to show her his toy, it was not his sole reason for leaving Conrad and Fallières talking about the past.
Yolande herself was the other reason. All through the excellent luncheon he had found his gaze drawn to the oval, dark face of the girl, and it had set him wondering what was the cause of her obvious discomposure. The long eyelashes had a habit of coming down and almost obscuring the soft, romantic eyes, and she would sit motionless for quite a few seconds, until some remark of her father's awakened her to consciousness of her immediate surroundings. Notwithstanding, he felt that she was not naturally pensive and pallid. There had been moments when the eyes moved quickly, flashing like rare jewels in the sunlight that streamed through the casement windows. Certainly this girl was arrestive and fascinating in many respects.