He was seated at his table when she entered, but there was no book open before him, and no pen ready to his hand.

He was dressed of course in black.

That, indeed, was usual with him, but now the tailor by his funereal art had added some deeper dye of blackness to his appearance.

When he rose and turned to her she thought that he had at once become an old man.

His hair was grey in parts, and he had never accustomed himself to use that skill in managing his outside person by which many men are able to preserve for themselves a look, if not of youth, at any rate of freshness.
He was thin, of an adust complexion, and had acquired a habit of stooping which, when he was not excited, gave him an appearance of age.