He talked a little about ordinary things and I answered stupidly as I always do with him.

I hated the solemn way he undressed.
He was a long time cleaning his teeth, making noises in his mouth as though he were laughing at me.

Then he sat on his bed, naked except for his shirt, combing his moustache and beard very carefully with a pocket-comb.

He was so thick and solid and scornful, not looking at me exactly, just staring in front of him.

There was no sound except his comb scraping through his beard.