"Very nice," he said; "I believe I can be comfortable here."
"If you aren't comfortable you certainly won't stay," she answered him
sharply.
"Then I _must_ be comfortable," he replied, laughing.
He laughed a great deal, but absent-mindedly, as though his thoughts were
elsewhere. It would have been interesting to a student of human nature to
have been there and watched him as he sat back in the cab, looking through
the window, indeed, but seeing apparently nothing. He seemed to be gazing
through his round spectacles very short-sightedly, his eyes screwed up and
dim. His fat soft hands were planted solidly on his thick knees.
The observer would have been interested because he would soon have
realised that Render saw everything; nothing, however insignificant,
escaped him, but he seemed to see with his brain as though he had learnt
the trick of forcing it to some new function that did not properly belong
to it. The broad white forehead under the soft black clerical hat was
smooth, unwrinkled, mild and calm.... He had trained it to be so.
The High Street was like any High Street of a small Cathedral town in the
early evening.
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