These different things were written in him--in his premature baldness, his seamed strained face, the lapse from bravery of his long tawny moustache; above all in his easy friendly universally acquainted eye, so much too sociable for mere conversation.

What possible relation with him could be natural enough to meet it?
He wore a scant rough Inverness cape and a pair of black trousers, wanting in substance and marked with the sheen of time, that had presumably once served for evening use.

He spoke with the slowness helplessly permitted to Americans--as something too slow to be stopped--and he repeated that he found himself associated with Miss Cutter in a harmony calling for wonder.

She had been telling him not only that she couldn't possibly give him ten pounds, but that his unexpected arrival, should he insist on being much in view, might seriously interfere with arrangements necessary to her own maintenance; on which he had begun by replying that he of course knew she had long ago spent her money, but that he looked to her now exactly because she had, without the aid of that convenience, mastered the art of life.
"I'd really go away with a fiver, my dear, if you'd only tell me how you do it.

It's no use saying only, as you've always said, that 'people are very kind to you.' What the devil are they kind to you FOR ?" "Well, one reason is precisely that no particular inconvenience has hitherto been supposed to attach to me.