The latter was a queer-looking fellow of about thirty.

He was pale and dark round the eyes, like a person who hadn't slept for a week.

His lips were large and red, and the lower part of his face a good deal too big for the upper.

Altogether Mr Masham was neither a very healthy nor a very prepossessing-looking specimen; but Hawkesbury had told me he was clever and very amusing, so I supposed I oughtn't to judge by appearances.
"Punctual as usual," said Hawkesbury, as I approached.

"Phil, this is my friend Batchelor I was telling you of." I wished secretly I knew exactly what he had been telling him of me.
"Oh," said Masham, eyeing me all over, as he lit a cigar, and then held out his cigar-case to me.