That crowd gave me a good deal of respect for my countrymen.

But several were badly rattled, and one man a little way off, whose back was turned, kept twitching his shoulders as if he had the colic.
I watched him curiously, and a movement of the crowd brought his face into profile.

Then I gasped with amazement, for I saw that it was Ivery.
And yet it was not Ivery.

There were the familiar nondescript features, the blandness, the plumpness, but all, so to speak, in ruins.

The man was in a blind funk.