Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. "He left Dollis Hill at ten o'clock on that night, and has not since returned. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different.
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