But then, he had a voice of such singular musical felicity that it charmed you into forgetfulness of these enormities.
It had charmed Jewdwine from the first, and Jewdwine was hard to charm.

There was no room for speculation as to him.

Even to the eye his type had none of the uncertainty and complexity of Rickman's.

He looked neither more nor less than he was--an Oxford don, developing into a London Journalist.

You divined that the process would be slow.
There was no unseemly haste about Jewdwine; time had not been spared in the moulding of his body and his soul.