three o'clock
A tweed shooting-coat hung from his broad , gaunt shoulders . Well-cut riding breeches , skin tight below his knees , ran into a pair of brown top-boots that shone like glass . A head and shoulders taller than the average tall man , his back was bent and his chest hollow . His thin hair , white as cotton wool , was touched with brilliantine , and his handsome face , deeply lined and wrinkled , was as closely shaved as an actor 's after three o'clock . His sunken eyes , overshadowed by bushy brows , had lost their fire . He could no longer see to read . He too heard the call without , and when he looked at the young , sweet thing upon whom he was dependent for the news , and glanced about the room so full of memories of his own departed youth , he said to himself with more bitterness than usual : `` I 'm old ; I 'm very old , and helpless ; life has no use for me , and it 's an infernal shame . ''