He had lived his own life for so long that solitude had grown upon him as moss clings to a stone.

He did not seem to feel the need of human companionship.

He lived apart.
Sometimes, indeed, he would go down to The Ship in the evening and lounge in the bar with the rest, but even there his solitude still wrapped him round.

He never expanded, however genial the atmosphere.
The other men treated him with instinctive respect.

He was powerful enough to thrash any two of them, and no one cared to provoke him to wrath.