The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it.

But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity.

Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down.

If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed.
Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four.

She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness.