Then
Olga took up a sketch that was lying on the table, and held it to
her visitor.
"Don't you think that good? It's one of Miss Bonnicastle's. Let us
talk about her; she'll be here directly. We don't seem to get on,
talking about ourselves."
The sketch showed an elephant sitting upright, imbibing with gusto
from a bottle of some much-advertised tonic. Piers broke into a
laugh. Other sketches were exhibited, and thus they passed the time
until Miss Bonnicastle and Kite arrived together.
CHAPTER XVIII
Strangers with whom Piers Otway had business at this time saw in him
a young man of considerable energy, though rather nervous and
impulsive, capable in all that concerned his special interests, not
over-sanguine, inclined to brevity of speech, and scrupulously
courteous in a cold way. He seldom smiled; his clean-cut,
intelligent features expressed tension of the whole man, ceaseless
strain and effort without that joy of combat which compensates
physical expenditure. He looked in fair, not robust, health; a
shadowed pallor of complexion was natural to him, and made
noticeable the very fine texture of his skin, which quickly betrayed
in delicate flushes any strong feeling. He shook hands with a short,
firm grip which argued more muscle than one might have supposed in
him. His walk was rapid; his bearing upright; his glance direct,
with something of apprehensive pride.
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