They were acquaintances of each other.

I sat down facing the one that sat at the starboard window.

He had a good face, and a friendly look, and I judged from his dress that he was a dissenting minister.

He was along toward fifty.

Of his own motion he struck a match, and shaded it with his hand for me to light my cigar.
I take the rest from my diary: In order to start conversation I asked him something about Maryborough.
He said, in a most pleasant--even musical voice, but with quiet and cultured decision: "It's a charming town, with a hell of a hotel." I was astonished.