Swarthy, appellants, lackadaisical
We were just then passing two swarthy men in clothing that appeared to be made of hides, much too heavy and hot for the Kenyan climate.
We finally got into the Governor’s office, and the man didn’t look too happy to see us. He looked disillusioned and lackadaisical even with the way he looked at us.
“What can we do for you?” He stressed the last word as if we were only the latest in a long procession of appellants.