Jones gave an ungracious assent, and turned into the shed where the lamps were kept, to begin his morning's work.
All the world would have been ready to echo the station-master's words as to the good looks of Percival Elster, known universally amidst his friends as Val Elster; for these good looks did not lie so much in actual beauty--which one lauds, and another denies, according to its style--as in the singularly pleasant expression of countenance; a gift that finds its weight with all.
He possessed a bright face; his complexion was fair and fresh, his eyes were blue and smiling, his features were good; and as he walked down the road, and momentarily lifted his hat to push his light hair--as much of a golden colour as hair ever is--from his brow, and gave a cordial "good-day" to those who met him on their way to work--few strangers but would have given him a second look of admiration.

A physiognomist might have found fault with the face; and, whilst admitting its sweet expression, would have condemned it for its utter want of resolution.
What of that?
The inability to say "no" to any sort of persuasion, whether for good or ill; in short, a total absence of what may be called moral courage; had been from his childhood Val Elster's besetting sin.
There was a joke against little Val when he was a boy of seven.

Some playmates had insisted upon his walking into a pond, and standing there.
Poor Val, quite unable to say "no," walked in, and was nearly drowned for his pains.

It had been a joke against him then; how many such "jokes" could have been brought against him since he grew up, Val himself could alone tell.

As the child had been, so was the man.