He had the air of a bully.

He seemed perfectly at ease and conscious of his status, and the woman started, then looked up half anxiously and half defiantly.
The man spoke first: "What are you doing here ?" "I am talking with this gentleman at the table." "You mustn't talk with these fellows.

Get out of here!" he said, turning to Harlson.
Harlson was not really in a pleasant frame of mind; he had been too hungry.

It was not the occasion on which a flabby bully should have thus addressed him.

He did not answer the man, but turned to the woman.
"Is that your husband ?" he asked.
"No." "What is he, then ?" It was the intruder who answered, violently: "She belongs to me, and you'd better get out of here." "I don't belong to him! He has lived here, but I want to get away from him! Now," turning recklessly to the man, "you may do what you please!" The man paid little note to what the woman said.