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Show Acting Alone Page 47 She noticed his nose first, of course. But, even bleeding and seemingly dislocated as it was, it might not have been quite so noticeable had it not been positioned so fantastically high off the ground, and fringed at the base with such a synthetic-seeming bunch of almost phosphorescent orange beast-whiskers. Something about the angry, hungry, tragic way the man was staring down at the old Poe editions in their glass case made Polycarpana's heart force her feet to stay a moment, instead of fleeing to find Chaplain Wagstaff Bopp and his man-eating doberman, as her brain told her to do. And all it took was that one extra moment for Polycarpana to recognize her little sister's English teacher. Yes, she remembered him from the time he'd brought his class to the convent on a "field trip." Though she hadn't made a noise yet, the huge professor suddenly looked up and, without really focusing his eyes on her, bared his teeth in a snarl or a grin. He seemed to have been feeding off the beautiful old books, nourishing himself with some kind of rare energy. Though obviously in an advanced state of emotional and physical exhaustion, laboring under a fairly severe loss of blood, he laughed, or shouted down into her face, "Where in hell did nuns with vows of Poverty, Chastity, Sobriety and stuff like that get their hands on such expensive, lascivious, intoxicating books as these? Hah?" He thumped a big fat thumb down on the glass over The Raven. He seemed to be in a terribly agitated frame of mind. But, for some reason, she was not afraid. Maybe it was the silly stories Shanny always told about the man. He was just a laugh-clown, according to Shanny. Polycarpana did not verbally reply to his question, but with a gentle motion |