[The helmsman] steered with no end of a swagger while you were by; but if he lost sight of you, he became instantly the prey of an abject funk […]

He walked down the street with his shirt untucked.

When I was about halfway through the hatch, the engine went “clickity, clickity, clickity, and boom,” igniting the gasoline vapors in the compartment into a huge fireball.

The many mansions in one east London house of God.