He moved with a certain directness
of purpose to the cabinet in the corner, unlocked it,
and poured out for himself a tumbler of brandy and soda.
He drank it without a pause, then turned again, and began
pacing up and down as before, his hands clasped behind him,
his head bent in thought.
The intervening six months had effected visible changes
in the outer man. One noted most readily that the face
had grown fuller in its lower parts, and was far less
browned than formerly. The large, heavy countenance,
with its square jaws masked now under increased flesh,
its beginnings of a double-chin, and its slightly flabby effect
of pallor, was no longer lacking in individual distinction.
It was palpably the visage of a dictator. The moustache
had been cut down to military brevity, and the line of mouth
below it was eloquent of rough power. The steady grey eyes,
seemingly smaller yet more conspicuous than before,
revealed in their glance new elements of secretiveness,
of strategy supported by abundant and confident personal force.
The man himself seemed scarcely to have grown stouter.
He held himself more compactly, as it were; seemed more
the master of all his physical expressions. He was
dressed like a magnate who was also a person of taste.
There was a flower in the lapel of his well-shaped
frock-coat, and the rustle of his starched and spotless
white waistcoat murmured pleasantly of refined toilets.
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