He kept clasping and unclasping his big hands as if he were trying to realize something.
The clock ticked through the minutes of a half-hour and the afternoon outside began to thicken and darken turbidly.

Alexander, since he first sat down, had not changed his position.

He leaned forward, his hands between his knees, scarcely breathing, as if he were holding himself away from his surroundings, from the room, and from the very chair in which he sat, from everything except the wild eddies of snow above the river on which his eyes were fixed with feverish intentness, as if he were trying to project himself thither.

When at last Lucius Wilson was announced, Alexander sprang eagerly to his feet and hurried to meet his old instructor.
"Hello, Wilson.

What luck! Come into the library.