He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. Come in! Come in, do. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. ” “He was probably right,” she declared. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. " And, with a few magical touches, he stamped the fleeting expression on the canvass. ” Lucy commented, dismayed.
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