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The Egotist Considers
Therewasaminutewhiletemptationcreptoverhimlikeawarmwind,andhisimaginationturnedtofire,andhetooktheglassfromPhoebe’shand.Thatwasall;foratthesecondthathisdecisioncame,helookedupandsaw,tenyardsfromhim,themanwhohadbeeninthecafe,andwithhisjumpofastonishmenttheglassfellfromhisupliftedhand.Therethemanhalfsat,halfleanedagainstapileofpillowsonthecornerdivan.Hisfacewascastinthesameyellowwaxasinthecafe,neitherthedull,pastycolorofadeadman—ratherasortofvirilepallor—norunhealthy,you’dhavecalledit;butlikeastrongmanwho’dworkedinamineordonenightshiftsinadampclimate.Amorylookedhimovercarefullyandlaterhecouldhavedrawnhimafterafashion,downtothemerestdetails.Hismouthwasthekindthatiscalledfrank,andhehadsteadygrayeyesthatmovedslowlyfromonetotheotheroftheirgroup,withjusttheshadeofaquestioningexpression.Amorynoticedhishands;theyweren’tfineatall,buttheyhadversatilityandatenuousstrength...theywerenervoushandsthatsatlightlyalongthecushionsandmovedconstantlywithlittlejerkyopeningsandclosings.Then,suddenly,Amoryperceivedthefeet,andwitharushofbloodtotheheadherealizedhewasafraid.Thefeetwereallwrong...withasortofwrongnessthathefeltratherthanknew....Itwaslikeweaknessinagoodwoman,orbloodonsatin;oneofthoseterribleincongruitiesthatshakelittlethingsinthebackofthebrain.
