`` You must resemble your mother , '' he said absently , as if thinking aloud . `` You do n't look at all like your father . '' Lynde shook her head . `` No , I do n't look like Mother either . She was tiny and dark -- she had a sweet little face and velvet-brown eyes and soft curly dark hair . Oh , I remember her look so well . I wish I did resemble her . I loved her so -- I would have done anything to save her suffering and trouble . At least , she died in peace . '' There was a curious note of fierce self-gratulation in the girl 's voice as she spoke the last sentence . Again Alan felt the unpleasant impression that there was much in her that he did not understand -- might never understand -- although such understanding was necessary to perfect friendship . She had never spoken so freely of her past life to him before , yet he felt somehow that something was being kept back in jealous repression . It must be something connected with her father , Alan thought . Doubtless , Captain Anthony 's past would not bear inspection , and his daughter knew it and dwelt in the shadow of her knowledge . His heart filled with aching pity for her ; he raged secretly because he was so powerless to help her . Her girlhood had been blighted , robbed of its meed of happiness and joy . Was she likewise to miss her womanhood ? Alan 's hands clenched involuntarily at the unuttered question . On his way home that evening he again met Isabel King . She turned and walked back with him but she made no reference to Four Winds or its inhabitants .
If Alan had troubled himself XXXXX look , he would have seen a malicious glow in her baleful brown eyes .
At On although as in like of that to with