Tell him he is at the door." Then turning to Faber, "I am sorry to say he does not seem at all well," she answered him.

"He has had a good deal of annoyance lately, and at his age that sort of thing tells." As she spoke she looked up at the doctor, full in his face, but with a curious quaver in her eyes.

Nor was it any wonder she should look at him strangely, for she felt toward him very strangely: to her he was as it were the apostle of a kakangel, the prophet of a doctrine that was evil, yet perhaps was a truth.

Terrible doubts had for some time been assailing her--doubts which she could in part trace to him, and as he sat there on Ruber, he looked like a beautiful evil angel, who _knew_ there was no God--an evil angel whom the curate, by his bold speech, had raised, and could not banish.
The surgeon had scarcely begun a reply, when the old minister made his appearance.

He was a tall, well-built man, with strong features, rather handsome than otherwise; but his hat hung on his occiput, gave his head a look of weakness and oddity that by nature did not belong to it, while baggy, ill-made clothes and big shoes manifested a reaction from the over-trimness of earlier years.