We shook hands, and I got the chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was a tall fellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I remember wondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when he smiled his teeth were above the average. One never knows why certain men cling to a messy upper lip that must get into things, any more than one understands some women building up their hair on wire atrocities. Otherwise, he was a very good to look at, stalwart and tanned, with the direct gaze that I like.
This made me smile. I really like that womans attitude. I wonder what our our favorite mustache wearer, Hercule Poirot, would say to her thoughts about facial hair ;).
So far this is really fun and I´m curious what is going to happen.