The hollows of his eyes were deep and darksome, but the eyes within them, were like little blue flowers plucked that morning.

He knew everything that could be known about life, which he regarded as, for far the greater part, a matter of pecuniary arrangement.

His wife accused him of a want, alike, of moral and of intellectual reaction, or rather indeed of a complete incapacity for either.

He never went even so far as to understand what she meant, and it didn't at all matter, since he could be in spite of the limitation a perfectly social creature.

The infirmities, the predicaments of men neither surprised nor shocked him, and indeed--which was perhaps his only real loss in a thrifty career--scarce even amused; he took them for granted without horror, classifying them after their kind and calculating results and chances.