Nutty regarded his beaming countenance with a lowering hostility.
The indecency of anyone being cheerful at such a time struck him
forcibly. He would have liked mankind to have preserved till
further notice a hushed gloom. He glared at the young man.
Elizabeth, such was her absorption in her thoughts, was not even
aware of his presence till he spoke to her.
'I beg your pardon, is this Flack's?'
She looked up and met that sunny eyeglass.
'This is Flack's,' she said.
'Thank you,' said the young man.
The automobile, a stout, silent man at the helm, throbbed in the
nervous way automobiles have when standing still, suggesting
somehow that it were best to talk quick, as they can give you only
a few minutes before dashing on to keep some other appointment.
Either this or a natural volatility lent a breezy rapidity to the
visitor's speech. He looked at Elizabeth across the gate, which it
had not occurred to her to open, as if she were just what he had
expected her to be and a delight to his eyes, and burst into
speech.
'My name's Nichols--J. Nichols. I expect you remember getting a
letter from me a week or two ago?'
The name struck Elizabeth as familiar. But he had gone on to
identify himself before she could place it in her mind.
'Lawyer, don't you know.
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