And Mr. Huxter wore no gloves,
and great blucher boots, and smelt very much of tobacco certainly; and
looked, oh, it must be owned, he looked as if a bucket of water would
do him a great deal of good! All these thoughts, and a myriad of
others rushed through Fanny's mind as her mamma was delivering herself
of her speech, and as the girl, from under her eyes, surveyed
Pendennis--surveyed him entirely from head to foot, the circle on his
white forehead that his hat left when he lifted it (his beautiful,
beautiful hair had grown again), the trinkets at his watch-chain, the
ring on his hand under his glove, the neat shining boot, so, so unlike
Sam's high-low!--and after her hand had given a little twittering
pressure to the lavender-colored kid grasp which was held out to it,
and after her mother had delivered herself of her speech, all Fanny
could find to say was, "This is Mr. Samuel Huxter whom you knew
formerly, I believe, sir; Mr. Samuel, you know you knew Mr. Pendennis
formerly--and--and--will you take a little refreshment?" These
little words tremulous and uncolored as they were, yet were understood
by Pendennis in such a manner as to take a great load of suspicion
from off his mind--of remorse, perhaps from his heart.
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