The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. He might miss at this distance. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. And yet, mulling it over, he began to understand why the white man was so powerful in the world: he was taught loyalty and fair play in his schools, and he carried this spirit the world which his forebears had conquered. The Becks as a 187 family didn’t talk or ruminate over Mike’s or Lucy’s past much. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Now, no more questions, or I shall be forced to leave the room. . It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence.
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