He would dog a man's footsteps, struck by the glossiness of his boots, or to discover what he was in such a hurry about, or merely because he had a good back to follow.

Probably he seldom knew what attracted him, and sometimes when he realised the pursuit he gave it up.
On these occasions there was one person only who really interested him.
This was a man, somewhat over middle age, of singularly noble and distinguished bearing.

His brow was furrowed with lines, but they spoke of cares of the past.

Benevolence had settled on his face.

It was as if, after a weary struggle, the sun had broken through the heavy clouds.