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A naval officer, trig in his white twill, strode along the Escolta, Manila's leading thoroughfare. There was something in his stride that suggested anger; and the settled grimness of his lips, visible...
A naval officer, trig in his white twill, strode along the Escolta, Manila's leading thoroughfare. There was something in his stride that suggested anger; and the settled grimness of his lips, visible between his mustache and short beard, and the hard brightness of his blue eyes emphasized this suggestion. He was angry, but it was a cold anger, a kind of clear-minded fury which often makes calculation terrible.
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