His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. Mrs. Hall noticed that the melted snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet.
"Can I take your hat and coat, sir," she said, "and give them a good dry in the kitchen?"
"No," he said without turning.
She was not sure she had heard him and was about to repeat her question.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. "I prefer to keep them on," he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with side-lights, and he had a bushy side-whisker over his coat collar that completely hid his cheeks and face.
"Very well, sir," she said. "As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer."
He made no answer and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned, he was still standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis and called rather than said to him, "Your lunch is served, sir."
"Thank you." he said at the same time and did not stir until she was closing the door.