He brushed his hair violently, and smoothed his moustache.
Never had he felt such dissatisfaction with his appearance.

Never had it struck him so disagreeably before that he was hard-featured, sallow, anything but a handsome man.

Yet, he had good teeth, very white and regular; that was something, perhaps.

Observing them, he grinned at himself grotesquely--and at once was so disgusted that he turned with a shudder away.
Ordinarily, he would have awaited the summons of the bell for tea.

But, after making himself ready, he gazed from the window and saw Miss Derwent walking alone in the garden; he hastened down.
She gave him a look of intelligence, but took his arrival as a matter of course, and spoke to him about a flowering shrub which pleased her.
Otway's heart sank.