But to the solemn all things are solemn.

I had enough sagacity to understand that.
I slipped out into the porch.

The dog was slumbering at Fyne's feet.

The muscular little man leaning on his elbow and gazing over the fields presented a forlorn figure.

He turned his head quickly, but seeing I was alone, relapsed into his moody contemplation of the green landscape.
I said loudly and distinctly: "I've come out to smoke a cigarette," and sat down near him on the little bench.