Looking back on it, he was chiefly conscious of having made more or less of a fool of himself.
After all, Tyson knew men.

On mature reflection it was simply impossible to regard Stanistreet as a purveyor of puerile gossip, or seriously to believe that such gossip had been the cause of his disaster.

That was only the last of a long train of undignified circumstances which had made his position in Drayton Parva insupportable; it lent a little more point to the innuendo on every tongue, the intelligence in every eye.

He was sick with disgust, and consumed with the desire to get out of it all, to cut Drayton Parva for good.

The accursed place was trying to stare him out of countenance.