SORRELL realized that he had changed his animal, that was all. At Staunton he had had to contend with a lioness; at Winstonbury his enemy was a bull.
The lioness had been hated, but the bull was popular. He was a playful and genial beast. He took the-head of the table in the staff's room; he teased the women and made eyes at them; he was always in evidence when being in evidence was worth while.
He went about with the air of carrying the whole establishment on his shoulders. He was excessively polite to all visitors, especially to the women. He delighted in the sound of his own voice.
By the female members of the staff he was spoken of always as "Mr. Buck." No doubt he was a very fine figure of a man, and it astonished Sorrell to find how popular he was. The average wench asks for so much and so little.
Yet Buck seemed to fill his position, and to be a convincing figure in the picture. He looked well in his uniform; he had a presence; he could be impressive. He met people coming in from their cars as though they were royal persons and he a Lord Mayor.
"Allow me, madam. Rooms, yes. Will you speak to the lady in the office. I'll have the luggage brought in. Saul,—luggage."
Buck would wait for the number of the room to be announced.
"Number seven, madam. First floor. Turn to the right at the top of the stairs. The luggage shall be sent up at once."
His voice would change.
"Saul,—luggage number seven. At once."
That was just it. He was efficient and polite and im—pressive, but he used Sorrell's narrower shoulders and frailer
