He stood at the gate for a short time with indifference in his manner and irritation in his heart.

He, too, tried to hum a tune, but failed.

Then he tried to whistle, but his musical efforts were abortive.

There was no music in him.
A moment before his heart had been full of harmony; but when he found a man instead of his sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping discord.
John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take the form of words and actions.

A little aimless stalking about at the gate was more than enough for him, so he stepped toward the intruder and lifted his hat.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you that you were Sir Malcolm Vernon.