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Chapter 6

           Hedidnotliketea;and,usually,rockinghisAmericanchair,hisneatlittleshinybootscrossedonthefoot-rest,hewouldtalkonandonwithasortofcomplacentvirtuositywonderfulinamanofhisage,whileheheldthecupinhishandsforalongtime.Hisclose-croppedheadwasperfectlywhite;hiseyescoalblack.

           OnseeingCharlesGouldstepintothesalahewouldnodprovisionallyandgoontotheendoftheoratorialperiod.Onlythenhewouldsay

           “Carlos,myfriend,youhaveriddenfromSanTomeintheheatoftheday.AlwaysthetrueEnglishactivity.No?What?”

           Hedrankupalltheteaatonceinonedraught.Thisperformancewasinvariablyfollowedbyaslightshudderandalow,involuntary“br-r-r-r,”whichwasnotcoveredbythehastyexclamation,“Excellent!”

           Thengivinguptheemptycupintohisyoungfriend’shand,extendedwithasmile,hecontinuedtoexpatiateuponthepatrioticnatureoftheSanTomemineforthesimplepleasureoftalkingfluently,itseemed,whilehisrecliningbodyjerkedbackwardsandforwardsinarocking-chairofthesortexportedfromtheUnitedStates.Theceilingofthelargestdrawing-roomoftheCasaGouldextendeditswhitelevelfarabovehishead.Theloftinessdwarfedthemixtureofheavy,straight-backedSpanishchairsofbrownwoodwithleathernseats,andEuropeanfurniture,low,andcushionedallover,likesquatlittlemonstersgorgedtoburstingwithsteelspringsandhorsehair.

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