Explore "The Disappearing Eye" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The little gentleman minced into the room, smiling and bowing. As I stood in the shadow, removed from the strong light of the electrics, he did not catch sight of me when he first entered. Exactly as he behaved at Burwain, so did he behave in London -- that is, as a specious humbug. Of course he looked as though he had just been taken out of a bandbox, and his _petit-mâitre_ air was more pronounced than ever. With the assurance of a man accustomed to attention, he made a tour of the circle.
"Lady Denham, you are looking more charming than ever. Lady Mabel, the good wine of your beauty needs no bush to advertise its perfection. Cannington, I am delighted to see you again. Mr. Weston " -- this last name was pronounced less effusively -- "I trust the airship stocks are rising. Ha! ha! " then he tittered at his small joke, made a comprehensive bow, and looked at me.