The thin face, narrow white forehead, and high-bridged nose might have belonged to an Oxford don or fashionable preacher, but, apart from these features, Austin Turold had nothing in common with such earnest souls.

By temperament he was a dilettante and cynic, who affected not to take life seriously.

His axiom of faith was that a good liver was the one thing in life worth having, and a far more potent factor in human affairs than conscience.

He had at one time regarded his brother Robert as a fool and visionary, but had seen fit to change that opinion latterly.
He paused in the act of raising his glass to his lips, and looked over the silent company as though seeking a convivial companion.

His son was still staring out of the window.