He looked very smart, with a rose in his buttonhole.

How different from what he looked in other days when he helped us to pretend that our currant pudding was a wild boar we were killing with our forks.

Yet, though tidier, his heart still beat kind and true.

You should not judge people harshly because their clothes are tidy.

He had dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, and told him everything we thought he would like to hear, and about the Tower of Mystery, and he said-- 'It makes my blood boil to think of it.' Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told it to had owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood.
'Ah,' said the Uncle, 'but in India we learn how to freeze our blood and boil it at the same time.' In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always near boiling-point, which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for the curry and pepper they eat.