His appearance was ominous.

His face had become set as marble; there was a look in his eyes like the flashing of a light upon black metal.

He contemplated his visitor across the lilies.
"A man so near to death, Immelan," he enjoined, "might choose his words more carefully." Immelan laughed scornfully.
"I am not to be bullied," he declared.

"Your doors with their patent locks have no fears for me.

When you walk abroad, you are followed by members of your household.