He had his purpose in visiting Andrew, and his mind was bent on his game.
Charon, the guardian of the castle, bayed his great hoarse bark at the Hawk, and with that keen insight into human nature for which dogs are so remarkable, he absolutely forbade the dandy's entrance, until Andrew appeared at the door and called the dog away.
"I am delighted at having the opportunity of meeting a great light in literature like yourself, Mr.Anderson.Here you sit weaving, earning your bread with a manly simplicity that is truly admirable.

You are like Cincinnatus at his plow.

I also am a literary man." He really was a college graduate, though doubtless he was as much of a humbug in recitations and examinations as he had always been since.
Andrew's only reply to his assertion that he was a literary man was a rather severe and prolonged scrutiny of his oily locks, his dainty mustache, his breast-pin, his watch-seals, and finally his straps and his boots.

For Andrew firmly believed that neglected hair, Byron collars, and unblackened boots were the first signs of literary taste.
"You think I dress too well," said Humphreys with his ghastly smirk.
"You think that I care too much for appearances.

I do.