The servant apologized, saying he thought she
was out. The visitor being already in the room, the glance she threw on
the card the man had given her had had time to teach her little or
nothing with regard to him when she advanced to receive him. The name on
the card was _Major H.G. Marvel_. She vaguely thought she had heard
it, but in the suddenness of the meeting was unable to recall a single
idea concerning the owner of it. She saw before her a man whose
decidedly podgy figure yet bore a military air, and was not without a
certain grace of confidence. For his bearing was even _marked_ by
the total absence of any embarrassment, anxiety, or any even of that air
of apology which one individual seems almost to owe to another. At the
same time there was not a suspicion of truculence or even repulse in his
carriage. There was self-assertion, but not of the antagonistic--solely
of the inviting sort. His person beamed with friendship. Notably above
the middle height, the impression of his stature was reduced by a too
great development of valor in the front of his person, which must always
have met the enemy considerably in advance of the rest of him.
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