When he had closed the door, he stood for a few moments looking about him; it was his first experience of the upper chambers of houses such as this.

Merely to step upon the carpet fluttered his senses: merely to breathe the air was a purification.
Luxury of the rational kind, dictated by regard for health of body and soul, appeared in every detail.

On the walls were water-colours, scenery of Devon and Cornwall; a hanging book-case held about a score of volumes poets, essayists, novelists.

Elsewhere, not too prominent, lay a Bible and a Prayer-book.
He dressed, as never before, with leisurely enjoyment of the process.
When the mirror declared him ready, his eyes returned frequently to an inspection of the figure he presented, and it seemed to him that he was not unworthy to take his place at the dinner-table.

As for his visage, might he not console himself with the assurance that it was of no common stamp?
'If I met that man in a room, I should be curious about him; I should see at once that he didn't belong to the vulgar; I should desire to hear him speak.' And the Warricombes were not lacking in discernment.