The room into which he was ushered was a moderately large public-house, with a bar and a number of tables round the room, at which many men and a few women were seated; some gambling, others singing or disputing, and all drinking and smoking.  It is only right to say that Miles was shocked.  Hitherto he had lived a quiet and comparatively innocent country life.  He knew of such places chiefly from books or hearsay, or had gathered merely the superficial knowledge that comes through the opening of a swing-door.  For the first time in his life he stood inside a low drinking-shop, breathing its polluted atmosphere and listening to its foul language.  His first impulse was to retreat, but false shame, the knowledge that he had no friend in Portsmouth, or place to go to, that the state of his purse forbade his indulging in more suitable accommodation, and a certain pride of character which made him always determine to carry out what he had resolved to do--all these considerations and facts combined to prevent his acting on the better impulse.  He doggedly followed his guide to a small round table and sat down.