He felt happier when all his belongings were stowed away out of sight and the old trunk and portmanteau hauled out of the room.
Colonel Winwood came home and asked his sister pertinent questions.

He was a bald, sad-looking man with a long grizzling moustache that drooped despondently.

But he had a square, obstinate chin, and his eyes, though they seldom smiled, were keen and direct, like Miss Winwood's.

Romance had passed him by long since.

He did not believe in paragons.
"I gather, my dear Ursula," said he in a dry voice, "that our guest is an orphan, of good Italian family, brought up in England by a guardian now dead who lived in France.