“Well, that’s a difficult question.”—Tarr laughed with circumspection and softness. “I don’t know whether I am or whether I’m not.”
“Would it be the German girl, if you were?”
“Yes, she’d be the one.”
There was a careful absence of comment in Butcher’s face.
“Ought I to marry the Lunken?”
“No,” Butcher said with measure.
“In that case I ought to tell her at once.”
“That is so.”
Tarr had a dark morning coat, whose tails flowed behind him as he walked strongly and quickly along, and curled on either side of his hips as he sat. It was buttoned half-way down the body.—He was taller than Butcher, wore glasses, had a dark skin, and a steady, unamiable, impatient expression. He was clean-shaven, with a shallow, square jaw and straight, thick mouth.—His hands were square and usually hot.