At those periods of his anger, all his face which was not scar, was eye and eyebrow.

He wore a thick black moustache, which covered his mouth, but no whiskers.

People said of him that he was so proud of his wound that he would not grow a hair to cover it.

The fact, however, was that no whisker could be made to come sufficiently forward to be of service, and therefore he wore none.
The story of that wound should be told.

When he was yet hardly more than a boy, before he had come up to London, he was living in a house in the country which his father then occupied.