I was a fierce fellow, and a trifle morbid from the first.

The man who sits in darkness, and who chose us all, chose me because I had all the crazy look of a conspirator--because my smile went crooked, and my eyes were gloomy, even when I smiled.

But there must have been something in me that answered to the nerves in all these anarchic men.

For when I first saw Sunday he expressed to me, not your airy vitality, but something both gross and sad in the Nature of Things.

I found him smoking in a twilight room, a room with brown blind down, infinitely more depressing than the genial darkness in which our master lives.