The waking Flintwinch had his full front face presented to his wife; the sleeping Flintwinch was in profile.

The waking Flintwinch was the old original; the sleeping Flintwinch was the double, just as she might have distinguished between a tangible object and its reflection in a glass, Affery made out this difference with her head going round and round.
If she had had any doubt which was her own Jeremiah, it would have been resolved by his impatience.

He looked about him for an offensive weapon, caught up the snuffers, and, before applying them to the cabbage-headed candle, lunged at the sleeper as though he would have run him through the body.
'Who's that?
What's the matter ?' cried the sleeper, starting.
Mr Flintwinch made a movement with the snuffers, as if he would have enforced silence on his companion by putting them down his throat; the companion, coming to himself, said, rubbing his eyes, 'I forgot where I was.' 'You have been asleep,' snarled Jeremiah, referring to his watch, 'two hours.

You said you would be rested enough if you had a short nap.' 'I have had a short nap,' said Double.
'Half-past two o'clock in the morning,' muttered Jeremiah.

'Where's your hat?
Where's your coat?
Where's the box ?' 'All here,' said Double, tying up his throat with sleepy carefulness in a shawl.