One thing he was determined about: he meant to have some explanation: he would not submit tamely to be dismissed without any just reason.
When he had finished reading the letter, Rushton looked up, and, leaning comfortably back in his chair, he blew a cloud of smoke from his cigar, and said in an affable, indulgent tone, such as one might use to a child: 'You're a bit of a hartist, ain't yer ?' Owen was so surprised at this reception that he was for the moment unable to reply.
'You know what I mean,' continued Rushton; 'decorating work, something like them samples of yours what's hanging up there.' He noticed the embarrassment of Owen's manner, and was gratified.

He thought the man was confused at being spoken to by such a superior person as himself.
Mr Rushton was about thirty-five years of age, with light grey eyes, fair hair and moustache, and his complexion was a whitey drab.

He was tall--about five feet ten inches--and rather clumsily built; not corpulent, but fat--in good condition.

He appeared to be very well fed and well cared for generally.

His clothes were well made, of good quality and fitted him perfectly.