He was looking round him with eyes which had once been dark and bright, and were now dimly yellow.

He looked from tomb to tomb, vainly seeking one that should be distinguished, if only by the evidence of a little care at the hands of the living.

He looked down the wide grass-grown street--partly paved after the manner of the Netherlands--toward the quay, where the brown river gleamed between the walls of the weather-beaten brick buildings.

There was a ship lying at the wharf, half laden with hay; a coasting craft from some of the greater tidal rivers, the Orwell or the Blackwater.

A man was sitting on a piece of timber on the quay, smoking as he looked seaward.