"In my time, lass, most men consider themselves a gentleman if'n they've been born right. They don't think it's got naught to do with doors -- unless they're holding it open for someone higher up on the bloody ladder than they are."

There was a slightly wistful look in his eye. Molly's time, he thought, sounded mighty fine. A man, he thought, might make something of himself in a time like that. And do it without the sort of tribulations he has had to face.

However, wistfulness was soon banished when his sight caught again on that tattoo. God, but it was the sort of thing that drew the eye. He traced it for a moment with his gaze before forcefully tearing his attention back to her face.

Not quite eye contact.