And she could see in his brown, gnome's eyes, the black
look of inorganic misery, which lay behind all his small buffoonery.
His figure interested her--the figure of a boy, almost a street arab.
He made no attempt to conceal it. He always wore a simple loden suit,
with knee breeches. His legs were thin, and he made no attempt to
disguise the fact: which was of itself remarkable, in a German. And he
never ingratiated himself anywhere, not in the slightest, but kept to
himself, for all his apparent playfulness.
Leitner, his companion, was a great sportsman, very handsome with his
big limbs and his blue eyes. Loerke would go toboganning or skating, in
little snatches, but he was indifferent. And his fine, thin nostrils,
the nostrils of a pure-bred street arab, would quiver with contempt at
Leitner's splothering gymnastic displays. It was evident that the two
men who had travelled and lived together, sharing the same bedroom, had
now reached the stage of loathing. Leitner hated Loerke with an
injured, writhing, impotent hatred, and Loerke treated Leitner with a
fine-quivering contempt and sarcasm.
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