“Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. At the same time Sydney and Brendon also vacated their places. A dressing-room then. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness.
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