pallor of the complexion

Pride refuses to die in the shabby peajacketed man explaining his panhandling technique.

“[…] They talk of you as if you were Croesus—and I expect the beggars sponge on you unconscionably.” And Vickers launched forth into a tirade very different from his platform utterances. He spoke with extreme contempt of the dense stupidity exhibited on all occasions by the working classes.

Flint was cap'n; I was quartermaster, along of my timber leg.[…]