A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. "Souls," she answered, drily. Her mother had prepared her for everything. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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