There was that trick of his of pushing up his spectacles nervously higher on to his nose.

He bad a silly shrill laugh, and he had that lack of tact that made him, when you had given him a shilling's worth of conversation and confidence, suppose that you had given him half-a-crown's worth and expect that you would very shortly give him five shillings' worth.

He presumed on nothing at all, was confidential when he ought to have been silent, and gushing when he should simply have thanked you with a smile.

Nothing, moreover, to look at.

He had the kind of complexion that looks as though it would break into spots at the earliest opportunity.