commonplace position shows great nervous force, and his nostrils
and mouth show a fiercely petulant wilfulness, as to the quality
of which his great imaginative eyes and fine brow are reassuring.
He is so entirely uncommon as to be almost unearthly; and to
prosaic people there is something noxious in this unearthliness,
just as to poetic people there is something angelic in it. His
dress is anarchic. He wears an old blue serge jacket, unbuttoned
over a woollen lawn tennis shirt, with a silk handkerchief for a
cravat, trousers matching the jacket, and brown canvas shoes.
In these garments he has apparently lain in the heather and waded
through the waters; but there is no evidence of his having ever
brushed them.

As he catches sight of a stranger on entering, he stops, and
edges along the wall on the opposite side of the room.

MORELL (as he enters). Come along: you can spare us quarter of an
hour, at all events. This is my father-in-law, Mr. Burgess--Mr.
Marchbanks.

MARCHBANKS (nervously backing against the bookcase). Glad to meet
you, sir.

BURGESS (crossing to him with great heartiness, whilst Morell
joins Candida at the fire). Glad to meet YOU, I'm shore, Mr.
Morchbanks. (Forcing him to shake hands.) 'Ow do you find
yoreself this weather? 'Ope you ain't lettin' James put no
foolish ideas into your 'ed?

MARCHBANKS. Foolish ideas! Oh, you mean Socialism. No.