His mouth was seldom closed, and the lips, like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly.
There were strange lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow suggested that the man had seen a good deal of the evil of the world, and not altogether unwillingly.

His voice was wonderfully soft and clear, and he spoke without a trace of any provincial accent.
During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation.
It appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world.

He had been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne as apprentice in a large sailing-ship.

His stories were interesting and humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero.

He recounted, for instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a half-drunken Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging round the deck of a ship and calling for help before he could get his assailant arrested.