Читать книгу Under the Tiger's Claws; Or, A Struggle for the Right онлайн

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She was that type of girl quite properly termed dashing. Her figure was striking, her face handsome, with mobile red lips, alluring blue eyes, and cheeks with a soft tinge of color not entirely their own. She had, too, an unusual abundance of wavy auburn hair, which was then arranged in picturesque disorder. Regarded from top to toe, she was decidedly noticeable, and the style of girl to which most men are quick to respond.

Nick Carter, however, did not quite fancy the general appearance of Miss Braddon, and he abruptly decided that her absence was desirable. In response to the cue so quietly given him, the banker glanced at the girl, and asked:

“What are you now at work on, Belle?”

Miss Braddon started slightly, much as if her ears had been deaf to any preceding remarks, then turned with a gracious smile to her employer.

“On the quarterly reports which you dictated this morning,” she replied, with a peculiarly clear and penetrating voice.

“You may drop that for the present, Belle, as I may change some of the concluding pages,” said Mr. Gilsey.