"Jem," she said quietly, "is absurdly proud of his new honours. It
affects his chin, which has gone up exactly one inch."
Then she went to bed.
CHAPTER VII
ON THE ROOF OF THE WORLD
The more a man has in himself, the less he will want from other people.
"Here--hi!"
As no one replied to this summons either, by voice or approach, the young
man subsided into occupied silence.
He was a very large young man, with a fair moustache which looked almost
flaxen against the deep tan of his face. This last, like the rest of him,
was ludicrously typical of that race which has wandered farther than the
Jews, and has hitherto managed, like them, to retain a few of its
characteristics. The Anglo-Saxonism of this youth was almost aggressive.
It lurked in the neat droop of moustache, which was devoid of that untidy
suggestion of a beer-mug characterising the labial adornment of a
northern flaxen nation of which we wot. It shone calmly in the glance of
a pair of reflectively deep blue eyes--it threw itself at one from the
pockets of an old tweed jacket worn in conjunction with regulation
top-boots and khaki breeches.
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