Roderick, clad always in white, roamed about like a restless ghost, silent for the most part, but making from time to time a brief observation, characterized by the most fantastic cynicism.

Roderick's contributions to the conversation were indeed always so fantastic that, though half the time they wearied him unspeakably, Rowland made an effort to treat them humorously.

With Rowland alone Roderick talked a great deal more; often about things related to his own work, or about artistic and aesthetic matters in general.

He talked as well as ever, or even better; but his talk always ended in a torrent of groans and curses.

When this current set in, Rowland straightway turned his back or stopped his ears, and Roderick now witnessed these movements with perfect indifference.