He had gorged my pockets; he had starved every dignified or affectionate sentiment of a man.

I had received so chilling an impression of age and experience that the mere look of youth drew me to confide in Rowley: he was only a boy, his heart must beat yet, he must still retain some innocence and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies with his mouth, he was not a machine to utter perfect speech! At the same time, I was beginning to outgrow the painful impressions of my interview; my spirits were beginning to revive; and at the jolly, empty looks of Mr.
Rowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box, St.Ives became himself again.
'Now, Rowley, don't be in a hurry,' said I.

'This is a momentous juncture.

Man and boy, you have been in my service about three hours.
You must already have observed that I am a gentleman of a somewhat morose disposition, and there is nothing that I more dislike than the smallest appearance of familiarity.

Mr.Pole or Mr.Powl, probably in the spirit of prophecy, warned you against this danger.' 'Yes, Mr.Anne,' said Rowley blankly.
'Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases, in which I am willing to depart from my principles.