He was drinking a lot back when I first met him. A real heavy drinker, but a good drunk. He never let his ugly side show.

And truly it was no mean sight to behold every small twig becrusted with ice, and glittering famously like silverwork or crystal, as the rays of the moon did strike upon them.

[…] the fact is that you can't move fast when you are sodden and mudded from head to foot and weighted down with a heavy rifle and bayonet and a hundred and fifty cartridges.

She lingered for a few moments, and was garrulous over some detail of the household.