He's an awfully decent fellow, but it's a sad pity he's such a masher." "A what ?" asked Horace.
"A masher.

He mayn't look it, but he goes it rather strong in that line after hours.

He doesn't mean it, poor soul; but he's mixed up with some of our reporters, and tries to go the pace with them.

I don't care for that sort of thing myself, but if you do, he's just your man.

You wouldn't think it to look at him, would you ?" "Certainly not," replied Horace, much impressed by this confidence and the revelation it afforded.
As Booms re-entered shortly afterwards, looking very gloomy, burdened with two plates, two mugs, and a sheaf of knives and forks under his arm, he certainly did not give one the impression of a very rakish character, and Horace could scarcely refrain from smiling as he tried to picture him in his after-hours character.
He left the couple to their sausages, and went out, in the vain hope of finding Reginald somewhere.