[Our Friend the Charlatan by George Gissing]@TWC D-Link bookOur Friend the Charlatan CHAPTER II 2/31
Often he had the air of a lyric enthusiast; often, that of a profound thinker; not seldom there came into his eyes a glint of stern energy which seemed a challenge to the world.
Therewithal, nothing perceptibly histrionic; look or speak as he might, the young man exhaled an atmosphere of sincerity, and persuaded others because he seemed so thoroughly to have convinced himself. He did not give the impression of high breeding.
His Oxford voice, his easy self-possession, satisfied the social standard, but left a defect to the finer sense.
Dyce had not the self-oblivion of entire courtesy; it seemed probable that he would often err in tact; a certain awkwardness marred his personal bearing, which aimed at the modern ideal of flowing unconstraint. Sipping the cup of tea which his mother had handed to him, Dyce talked at large.
Nothing, he declared, was equal to the delight of leaving town just at this moment of the year, when hedge and meadow were donning their brightest garments and the sky gleamed with its purest blue.
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