1 Mr. Mason shortly unclosed his eyes; he groaned.
2 He bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and child.
3 He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my direction before.
4 He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me, irresolute, disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.
5 Amidst this sordid scene, sat a man with his clenched hands resting on his knees, and his eyes bent on the ground.
6 There was a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, whether with wine or not, I am not sure; but I think it very probable.
7 An easy-chair was near the bed-head: a man sat in it, dressed with the exception of his coat; he was still; his head leant back; his eyes were closed.
8 Up the blood rushed to his face; forth flashed the fire from his eyes; erect he sprang; he held his arms out; but I evaded the embrace, and at once quitted the room.
9 What struggle there was in him between Nature and Grace in this interval, I cannot tell: only singular gleams scintillated in his eyes, and strange shadows passed over his face.
10 I almost expected a rebuff for this hardly well-timed question, but, on the contrary, waking out of his scowling abstraction, he turned his eyes towards me, and the shade seemed to clear off his brow.
11 He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five.
12 I was standing before him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey; not very bright, but I dare say I should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured looking face.