.

.

.
The colour flooded his cheeks and faded again.

He sat down clumsily in a chair, felt for a pipe that he smoked unwillingly because it was the manly thing to do, spurted some Apollinaris into a glass and over the tablecloth, struck many matches vainly, dropped tobacco on to the carpet.

His heart was beating like a hammer! How men would stare when they saw him with Dune.