Every line of his countenance became to his eyes what a disgusting odour would have been to his nostrils.

And yet the fascination of his hate, and his desire of revenge, kept Beauchamp's ears, eyes, and thoughts hovering about Forbes.
No way of gratifying his hatred, however, although he had been brooding over it all the previous summer, had presented itself till now.

Now he saw the possibility of working a dear revenge.

But even now, to work surely, he must delay long.

Still the present consolation was great.
Nor is it wonderful that his pride should not protect him from the deeper disgrace of walking in underground ways.