The wild look left his eyes, and the flush his cheeks.
His face looked suddenly old and haggard.

Yet with fairly sure steps he crossed the room and entered the little kitchen.
Half of the bacon was black; the other half was transparent and like tough jelly.

The potatoes were soggy, and had the unmistakable taste that comes from a dish that has boiled dry.

The coffee was lukewarm and muddy.

Even the milk was sour.
David laughed a little ruefully.
"Things aren't so nice as yours, father," he apologized.