After looking at her for a minute or so, he gave a half laugh himself--but it was an awkward one.
"She's a looker," he remarked.

"They're a lot of them lookers--not all--but a fair show----" "A looker," translated Mount Dunstan in a low voice to Penzance, "means, I believe, a young women with good looks--a beauty." "Yes, she IS a looker, by gee," said G.Selden, "but--but--" the awkward half laugh, taking on a depressed touch of sheepishness, "she makes me feel 'way off--they all do." That was it.

Surrounded by them, he was fascinated but not cheered.

They were all so smilingly, or disdainfully, or indifferently unconscious of the existence of the human thing of his class.

His aspect, his life, and his desires were as remote as those of prehistoric man.