There had been a fire, but it had died out, and the coals were black in the grate, while the kettle still sat upon the top bar with a melancholy expression of neglect about it.
James Oliver himself had placed his chair near to the open door, where he could keep his eye upon the shop--a needless precaution, as at this hour no customers ever turned into it.

He was an old man, and seemed very old and infirm by the dim light.

He was thin and spare, with that peculiar spareness which results from the habit of always eating less than one can.

His teeth, which had never had too much to do, had gone some years ago, and his cheeks fell in rather deeply.

A fine network of wrinkles puckered about the corners of his eyes and mouth.