His shoulders were a trifle humped up and his head bent, as he looked down at the black and buff of the tiger skin at his feet.
When Theresa approached with her jerky consequential little walk--pinkly self-conscious behind her gold-rimmed glasses--he glanced at her, revealing a fiercely careworn countenance, but made no movement to shake hands with or otherwise greet her.

This omission she hardly noticed, already growing abject before his magnificence--for thus did his appearance impress her--which, while claiming her enthusiastic admiration, enjoined humility rather than the sentimental expansions in which her imaginary conversations had so conspicuously abounded.
"I have seen Dr.McCabe," he began.

"His report of Damaris' condition is very far from reassuring.

He tells me her illness presents peculiar symptoms, and is grave out of all proportion to its apparent cause.

This makes me extremely uneasy.