Excerpt from The White Prophet: A Novel
Almost as soon as the Prince's company had cleared away, a second carriage, that of the British consul-general, came down the line to the pavilion, with a posse of native police on either side and a sais running in front. Then from his seat in the centre Lord Nuneham rose and stepped down to the arena, shaking hands with people as he passed, gallant to the ladies as befits an English gentleman, but bearing himself with a certain brusque condescension to ward the men, all trying to attract his attention - a medium sized yet massive person, with a stern jaw and steady gray eyes, behind which the cool brain was plainly packed in ice. A man of iron who had clearly passed through the pathway of life with a firm high step.
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