His brown hair, carelessly brushed, fell over a forehead both broad and lofty, beneath which shone a pair of bold, clear grey eyes.

The moment Troubridge saw him he set him down in his own mind as a "goer," by which he meant a man who had go, or energy, in him.

A man, he thought, who is thrown away as a parson.
The Bishop, ringing the bell, began again, "This is my nephew, Mr.
Frank Maberly." The sleek servant entered.
"My dear Frank, pray give that rat to Sanders, and let him take it away.

I don't like such things in the study." "I only brought it to convince you, uncle," said the other.

"Here you are, Sanders!" But Sanders would have as soon shaken hands with the Pope.