He preferred to be more uncomfortable and more aware of the flight of the dark hours.

It seemed numbing.
The footman in his grey house-jacket was neat and Italian and sympathising.

He gave good-morning in Italian--then softly arranged the little table by the bedside, and put out the toast and coffee and butter and boiled egg and honey, with silver and delicate china.

Aaron watched the soft, catlike motions of the man.

The dark eyes glanced once at the blond man, leaning on his elbow on the pillow.