The Craze of Christina — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

8 The Craze of Christina. steel-gray eyes in withering contempt upon the young master whom he despised—or whom, by the expression of those stony eyes, he appeared to despise—and nothing apparently save death could rid his victim of their steadfast gaze. Clifford had an innate conviction that Docker would never be so obliging as to die. He must have lived for generations already—there seemed no reasonable evidence why he should not continue to live for several generations longer. | | Docker stood by his new master’s side with his venerable white hair, and his no less vener- able white linen choker; he offered no sugges- tions, he evidently experienced no sort of hu- man emotion, neither sympathy nor interest played upon his expressionless countenance; there was only that suspicion of contempt in his unfaltering eyes, and a certain relentless undercurrent of stolid determination. ‘“*T can’t—I really can’t go on living by my- self in such a house!” burst with something like a groan from the poor young man’s lips, as he watched the mice disappear in conjugal amity beneath the ebony sarcophagus far away. ‘‘. am afraid you have no choice, sir,’’ replied Docker with perfect politeness, but with an ex- Comichooks.co