His chin was propped on his hand.

He seemed to be waiting.
The light failed very quickly, and he presently reached out and drew a reading-lamp towards him.

The flame he kindled flickered upward, throwing weird shadows upon his lean, brown face, making the sunken hollows of his eyes look cavernous.
He turned the light away so that it streamed upon the open doorway.

Then he resumed his former position of sphinx-like waiting, his chin upon his hand.
Half an hour passed.

The day was dead.