He pictured them as philosophic vagabonds, full of quaint turns of speech, unconscious Borrovians.

With these samples his disillusionment was speedy.

The party was made up of a ferret-faced man with a red nose, a draggle-tailed woman, and a child in a crazy perambulator.

Their conversation was one-sided, for it immediately resolved itself into a whining chronicle of misfortunes and petitions for relief.

It cost him half a crown to be rid of them.
The road was alive with tramps that day.