But the features were unpleasant to look upon; it was Richard's face, distorted and enfeebled with impress of sensual instincts.
'As long as you live in this house, it shan't go on,' his mother was saying.

'Sunday or Monday, it's no matter; you'll be home before eleven o'clock, and you'll come home sober.

You're no better than a pig!' 'Arry was seated in a far corner of the room, where he had dropped his body on entering.

His attire was such as the cheap tailors turn out in imitation of extreme fashions: trousers closely moulded upon the leg, a huff waistcoat, a short coat with pockets everywhere.

A very high collar kept his head up against his will; his necktie was crimson, and passed through a brass ring; he wore a silver watch-chain, or what seemed to be such.