As I looked at him, I thought that he made a perfect picture of the citizen turned countryman, going back of an evening to his innocent home.

Everything was right--his neat tweeds, his light spats, his spotted neckcloth, and his Aquascutum.
Not that I dared look at him much.

What I had learned made me eager to search his face, but I did not dare show any increased interest.

I had always been a little off-hand with him, for I had never much liked him, so I had to keep on the same manner.

He was as merry as a grig, full of chat and very friendly and amusing.