“Well, you ask him, then,” I told her.
As if sensing my own curiosity, she fell silent, and both of us searched the crowd eagerly. We weren’t more than thirty feet from the steps of the single battered Pullman, so I could note every line in the face of the man who shook hands so enthusiastically with doughty little Penoch.
That greeting surprized me. Kennedy’s eyes were shining; his face held a genial and infectious grin, and I’ll swear that it was plain as the nose on my face that he liked Penoch a lot. And Penoch, too, seemed to melt. I guess the memories of a thousand times, good and bad, creates a bond, even between enemies, when they meet after a long separation.
“Isn’t he good-looking!” exclaimed Shirley with zest. “That’s the cutest mustache!”
And she was right. He was of medium height, dressed in blue serge and a jaunty straw hat. He removed the hat, as they approached the car, talking eagerly. His hair was black as night, wiry and wavy. His eyes were gray or blue, his nose long and straight; the carefully tailored mustache softened a thin mouth. His shoulders were broad, and his body looked as hard as rock.
As they came closer, I had a funny feeling. He fairly radiated personality; but, somehow, in his slightly small, slightly too close together eyes, I thought I could see meanness. Probably it was because of what Penoch had said, but I seemed to see through a shallow layer of geniality and kindness into a man wherein there was neither moral sense nor unselfishness. Just something as cold and impersonal and impregnable as a rock.
As he approached us, his eyes, which I could now distinguish as green, rested continuously on Shirley. If ever I saw bold admiration, I saw it then. There was something coldly appraising in his stare, and an uncanny hypnotic effect. I’ll swear I had a job pulling my own optics off his.
I made one or two revisions regarding his personal appearance, too. In the first place, his hair was shot with gray; in the second place, his chin seemed a bit weak; in the third place, he was an attractive man, despite everything.
When Penoch introduced Shirley and me, he bowed low—a bit too low—and said:
“Pleased to meet you both. So the boy’s bought himself a buggy, has he? Some car, ‘Peewee,’ some car!”