[Right now, in the spike of his panic, Alois is needy (even more than usual) and terrified of isolation (also on an even greater plane), so he would take even a scolding. But instead he gets just the straightforward frank and stern, and he tries to swallow his heart back down, willing it to recede from his throat, even from his chest, hoping to sequester it away.

He has known this sternness before; he has known a voice which is commanding without actually telling him what to do. So once the stuffy men scatter, Alois stares up at the face of his savior (and he's quite serious about that word), almost expecting to see a too-perfect face, crafted by the neediness of a child. (Claude Faustus knew what Alois wanted him to look like even before Alois did.)

So, Childermass' actual face, not the frigid marble of Alois' butler, is kind of a disappointment. But Alois learned a long time ago that you've sometimes got to take what you can get.

Alois immediately attaches himself to one of Childermass' arms like a child much younger than fifteen. He's never so earnest and open as he is when he is frightened, and he's quite entitled besides, so he's not going to feel ashamed of this clingy action until later.] Do you know which way to go? [he asks, desperate, breathless.] Do you? Oh, take me the right way, how can it be even worse than this! Take me the right way.