"You know me to be a ferryman," I said, pushing the circlet up and over my forehead. "How?"
"Why, by taking one look at you, that’s how! You've no mask, that much is true, nor have you a scythe, as I’ve said … you’ve the cloak, all right, but that can be purchased at even the lowliest of costume shops; I’ve one just like it in my wagon here, in fact. No, this is something in the face itself. It’s an aura." He paused, appraising me coldly. "You’ve the heart of a ferryman."
After a moment I replied, "I knew a woman once who said the very opposite."
"A woman, eh? She must have feared you very much."