| There was a line at the door to the Car6 Carlyle, but acquiring agood table was rarely a challenge for the tall Englishman. Hissteady gaze, his soft, rich voice and sure, understated gesturesconveyed a definite air of command. He had the ageless, chiseledgood looks that made some of the people waiting for the floorshow look twice, uncertain if they had seen the face in a movie ora magazine. The man stood apart, but was not easy to place. Lean and spare, with wings of gray in his thick brown hair,brushed straight back from a high, broad forehead, he might havepassed for thirty-five or forty-five. The silk shirt and impeccablytailored blue suit spoke of money and power. But there wassomething about the man s military bearing and the ironic set ofhis mouth that signaled that he did not spend his days con-templating stock-market quotations. |
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