The next moment the kitchen door was
thrown open, and two young men appeared. The one in advance was
Richard Mutimer; behind him came a friend of the family, Daniel
Dabbs.
'Well, what do you think of this?' Richard exclaimed as he shook
Emma's hands rather carelessly. 'Mother been putting you out of
spirits, I suppose? Why, it's grand; the best thing that could have
happened! What a meeting we've had to-night! What do _you_ say,
Dan?'
Richard represented--too favourably to make him anything but an
exception--the best qualities his class can show. He was the English
artisan as we find him on rare occasions, the issue of a good strain
which has managed to procure a sufficiency of food for two or three
generations. His physique was admirable; little short of six feet in
stature, he had shapely shoulders, an erect well-formed head, clean
strong limbs, and a bearing which in natural ease and dignity
matched that of the picked men of the upper class--those fine
creatures whose career, from public school to regimental quarters,
is one exclusive course of bodily training. But the comparison, on
the whole, was to Richard's advantage. By no possibility could he
have assumed that aristocratic vacuity of visage which comes of
carefully induced cerebral atrophy. The air of the workshop suffered
little colour to dwell upon his cheeks; but to features of so
pronounced and intelligent a type this pallor added a distinction.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76