Our foolish young friend having heard Pryer talk to this effect,
caught up all he said and reproduced it _more suo_.
One evening, however, about this time, whom should he see coming along a
small street not far from his own but, of all persons in the world,
Towneley, looking as full of life and good spirits as ever, and if
possible even handsomer than he had been at Cambridge. Much as Ernest
liked him he found himself shrinking from speaking to him, and was
endeavouring to pass him without doing so when Towneley saw him and
stopped him at once, being pleased to see an old Cambridge face. He
seemed for the moment a little confused at being seen in such a
neighbourhood, but recovered himself so soon that Ernest hardly noticed
it, and then plunged into a few kindly remarks about old times. Ernest
felt that he quailed as he saw Towneley's eye wander to his white necktie
and saw that he was being reckoned up, and rather disapprovingly reckoned
up, as a parson. It was the merest passing shade upon Towneley's face,
but Ernest had felt it.
Towneley said a few words of common form to Ernest about his profession
as being what he thought would be most likely to interest him, and
Ernest, still confused and shy, gave him for lack of something better to
say his little threepenny-bit about poor people being so very nice.
Pages:
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435