He seemed trying to conquer it, to twist his face into its habitual shape, but, like the spirit of a strange force, the smile broke through.

It had mastered him, his thoughts, his habits, and his creed; he was stripped of fashion, as on a thirsty noon a man stands stripped for a cool plunge from which he hardly cares if he come up again.
And this smile, not by intrinsic merit, but by virtue of its strangeness, attracted the eye of each man in the room; so, in a crowd, the most foreign-looking face will draw all glances.
The Reverend Husell Barter with a frown watched that smile, and strange thoughts chased through his mind.
"Uncle Charles, a dhrop of the craythur a wee dhrop of the craythur ?" General Pendyce caressed his whisker.
"The least touch," he said, "the least touch! I hear that our friend Sir Percival is going to stand again." Mr.Barter rose and placed his back before the fire.
"Outrageous!" he said.

"He ought to be told at once that we can't have him." The Hon.

Geoffrey Winlow answered from his chair: "If he puts up, he'll get in; they can't afford to lose him." And with a leisurely puff of smoke: "I must say, sir, I don't quite see what it has to do with his public life." Mr.Barter thrust forth his lower lip.
"An impenitent man," he said.
"But a woman like that! What chance has a fellow if she once gets hold of him ?" "When I was stationed at Halifax," began General Pendyce, "she was the belle of the place---" Again Mr.Barter thrust out his lower lip.
"Don't let's talk of her---the jade!" Then suddenly to George: "Let's hear your opinion, George.

Dreaming of your victories, eh ?" And the tone of his voice was peculiar.
But George got up.
"I'm too sleepy," he said; "good-night." Curtly nodding, he left the room.
Outside the door stood a dark oak table covered with silver candlesticks; a single candle burned thereon, and made a thin gold path in the velvet blackness.