Ridley, who had prowled unheeded, started forward, stopped, and, with a gesture of disgust, strode off to his study.

The sleeping politician was left in Rachel's charge.

She read a sentence, and took a look at him.

In sleep he looked like a coat hanging at the end of a bed; there were all the wrinkles, and the sleeves and trousers kept their shape though no longer filled out by legs and arms.

You can then best judge the age and state of the coat.