His hands were thrust deep into his overcoat pockets.
"What do you want ?" he demanded thickly, as the dapper little man came up and extended his hand.

Simmy was beaming, as if he suddenly had found a long lost friend and comrade.

George took no notice of the friendly hand.
He was staring hard, almost savagely at the other's face.

Simmy was surprised to find that his cheeks, though sunken and haggard, were cleanly shaved, and his general appearance far from unprepossessing.

In the light from a near-by window, the face was lowering but not inflamed; the eyes were heavy and tired-looking--but not bloodshot.
"I thought I recognised you," said Simmy glibly.
"Much obliged," said George, without the semblance of a smile.
Simmy hesitated.