Max Pemberton,
A Gentleman's Gentleman — Chapter 11
(1896)
“ White as his face had been in the morning, the color of it in the afternoon was like a bit of plaster of Paris. And what was more than this was the way he walked, feeling his road with his hands, like a blind man, and staring before him as though he was frightened that every step he took might land him on nothing. Never have I seen the muscles of a man's mouth twitch so much, or a man's fingers look so like claws. ”
