But Rickman would none of him; his whole attitude was eloquent of rebuke.

He waved Spinks away with one pathetic hand; with the other he clutched and gathered round him the last remnants of his personal majesty.

And thus, in his own time and in his own fashion, he wandered to his bed.

Even then he conveyed reproach and reproof by his manner of entering it; he seemed to vanish subtly, to withdraw himself, as into some sacred and inviolable retreat.
Spinks crept away, saddened by the rebuff.

After all, he was no nearer to Rickman drunk than to Rickman sober.