Perhaps it is some effort he is making which throws into his look that cold, hard blackness which is not beautiful.

Perhaps it is some kind of exasperation arising from what he has heard Moultrie say privately and Van Boozenberg publicly, as it were, that pushes him further than he means to go.

There is a dangerous look of craft; an air of sarcastic cunning in his eyes and on his face.

He turns the current of talk with his neighbors, without any other indication of disturbance than the unpleasant look.

Van Boozenberg is silent again.