Justice is a machine that, when someone has once given it the starting push, rolls on of itself. - John Galsworthy

Curious how he jibbed away from sight of his wife and child!
One would have thought he must have rushed up at the first moment. On the contrary, he had a sort of physical shrinking from it — fastidious possessor that he was. He was afraid of what Annette was thinking of him, author of her agonies, afraid of the look of the baby, afraid of showing his disappointment with the present and — the future.

SIR CHARLES is an upright, well-groomed, grey-moustached, red-faced man of sixty-seven, with a keen eye for molehills, and none at all for mountains.

FALDER’S work [a shirt to which he is putting buttonholes] is hung to a nail on the wall over a small wooden table, on which the novel “Lorna Doone” lies open.