It was certainly the worse for wear.

There were some curious patches in the front that had the appearance of oil stains.
"That'll be all right!" he said cheerfully.

"I had a fright and tumbled upstairs.

Skirts are beastly awkward things to run away in, aren't they, Mrs.Langdale?
Well, good-night all! I'm going to bed." He got up with the words, grinned at everyone collectively, picked up the injured skirt with exaggerated care, and stepped out of the saloon.
Mrs.Langdale looked after him, half-laughing, yet with a touch of concern.
"He looks queer," she remarked to Molly, who was standing by her.

"Quite white and shaky.