Gaudian was in uniform, and I liked the look of his honest face better than ever.
But the great event was the sight of Enver.

He was a slim fellow of Rasta's build, very foppish and precise in his dress, with a smooth oval face like a girl's, and rather fine straight black eyebrows.

He spoke perfect German, and had the best kind of manners, neither pert nor overbearing.

He had a pleasant trick, too, of appealing all round the table for confirmation, and so bringing everybody into the talk.
Not that he spoke a great deal, but all he said was good sense, and he had a smiling way of saying it.

Once or twice he ran counter to Moellendorff, and I could see there was no love lost between these two.
I didn't think I wanted him as a friend--he was too cold-blooded and artificial; and I was pretty certain that I didn't want those steady black eyes as an enemy.