He sat down again and gazed at Olva with the eyes of a devoted dog.

Olva looked at him.

Over Bunning's red wrists the brown ends of a Jaeger vest protruded from under the shirt.
"I say, why don't you dress properly ?" "I don't know---" began Bunning.
"Well, the sleeves of your vest needn't come down like that.

It looks horribly dirty.

Turn 'em up." Bunning, blushing almost to tears, turned them back.
"There's no need to make yourself worse than you are, you know," Olva finished his whisky and poured out some more.