He ain't a beauty, any'ow.' 'Is he tall ?' 'Tall?
Well, no, I shouldn't say _tall_ Mr.Anne.' 'Well, then, is he short ?' 'Short?
No, I don't think I would say he was what you would call _short_.

No, not piticular short, sir.' 'Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle height ?' 'Well, you might say it, sir; but not remarkable so.' I smothered an oath.
'Is he clean-shaved ?' I tried him again.
'Clean-shaved ?' he repeated, with the same air of anxious candour.
'Good heaven, man, don't repeat my words like a parrot!' I cried.

'Tell me what the man was like: it is of the first importance that I should be able to recognise him.' 'I'm trying to, Mr.Anne.

But _clean-shaved_?
I don't seem to rightly get hold of that p'int.

Sometimes it might appear to me like as if he was; and sometimes like as if he wasn't.