At one or two he looked particularly. He hardly knew
why. They rather fascinated him. There was something so very stern and
uncompromising about them, and something, too, oddly, subtly, familiar,
that yet just eluded him. But whenever their eyes met his own they held
undeniable welcome in them; and some held more--a kind of perplexed
admiration, he thought, something that was between esteem and deference.
This note of respect in all the faces was very flattering to his vanity.
Coffee was served presently, made by a black-haired Brother who sat in
the corner by the piano and bore a marked resemblance to Bruder
Schliemann, the musical director of thirty years ago. Harris exchanged
bows with him when he took the cup from his white hands, which he
noticed were like the hands of a woman. He lit a cigar, offered to him
by his neighbour, with whom he was chatting delightfully, and who, in
the glare of the lighted match, reminded him sharply for a moment of
Bruder Pagel, his former room-master.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43