Another announced that Hayes, the agent for the estate, and a tenant would wait upon Osborn, who knew what they meant to talk about.

He admitted that a landlord had duties, but his generally demanded attention at an inconvenient time.
Osborn was fifty years of age.

He had a ruddy skin and well-proportioned figure, and was, physically, a rather fine example of the sporting country gentleman.

For all that, there were lines on his forehead and wrinkles about his eyes; his mouth was loose and sensual, and something about him hinted at indulgence.

His manner, as a rule, was abrupt and often overbearing.
The library was spacious, the furniture in good taste but getting shabby.
In fact, a certain look of age and shabbiness was typical of the house.
Although the windows were open, the room had a damp smell, and the rows of books that Osborn never read were touched with mildew.