He drew near to a desperate resolve

He evinced his displeasure by a contemptuous sneer or a grim scowl

He felt an unaccountable loathing

He felt the ironic rebound of her words

He flung diffidence to the winds

He flushed crimson

He found the silence intolerably irksome

He frowned perplexedly

He gave her a baffled stare

He gave himself to a sudden day-dream

He gave his ear to this demon of false glory

He grew wanton with success

He had acted with chivalrous delicacy of honor

He had the eye of an eagle in his trade

He had the gift of deep, dark silences

He held his breath in admiring silence

He laughed away my protestations

He lent no countenance to the insensate prattle

He listened greedily and gazed intent

He made a loathsome object

He made the politest of monosyllabic replies

He murmured a civil rejoinder

He murmured a vague acceptance

He mused a little while in grave thought

He never wears an argument to tatters

He only smiled with fatuous superiority

He paused, stunned and comprehending

He perceived the iron hand within the velvet glove

He raised a silencing hand

He ruled autocratically

He sacrificed the vulgar prizes of life

He sat on thorns

He set his imagination adrift

He shambled away with speed

He sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion

He smote her quickening sensibilities

He submitted in brooding silence

He suppressed every sign of surprise

He surrendered himself to gloomy thought

He threaded a labyrinth of obscure streets

He threw a ton’s weight of resolve upon his muscles

He threw out phrases of ill-humor

He threw round a measuring eye

He treads the primrose path of dalliance

He used an unguarded adjective

He was a tall, dark, saturnine youth, sparing of speech
                                        [saturnine = melancholy; sullen]

He was aware of emotion

He was born to a lively and intelligent patriotism

He was dimly mistrustful of it

He was discreetly silent

He was empty of thought

He was entangled in a paradox

He was giving his youth away by handfuls

He was haunted and begirt by presences

He was measured and urbane

He was most profoundly skeptical

He was nothing if not grandiloquent

He was quaking on the precipice of a bad bilious attack

He was utterly detached from life

He went hot and cold

He would fall into the blackest melancholies