expressive. His dark, narrow eyes were dull, and his finely-cut features
small and perfect, rather than bold and strong; his long hands were the
hands of a woman more than those of a man, and his figure was slight to
boyishness.

When Hartley let his full joy express itself in husky, cheery words of
surprise, his visitor said very little, but what he did say was spoken
in a pleasant, low voice.

"Coryndon," said Hartley again. "Of all men on earth I wanted to see you
most. You've done what you always do, come in the 'nick.'"

Coryndon smiled, a languid, half-amused gleam of mirth.

"I am only passing through, my job is finished."

"But you'll stay for a bit?"

"You said just now that I was here in the 'nick'; if the nick is
interesting, I'll see."

"I'll go and arrange about your rooms," said Hartley, and he appeared
twice his normal size beside his guest, as a St. Bernard might look
standing by a greyhound. "We will talk afterwards."

Coryndon watched him go out without change of expression, and, sliding
back into his chair, took up his book again.

"They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep."