Tom Helmer entered--much the same--a little paler and thinner. He
made his approach with a certain loose grace natural to him, and
seated himself on the chair, at some distance from her own, to
which Mrs. Redmain motioned him.
Tom seldom failed of pleasing. He was well dressed, and not too
much; and, to the natural confidence of his shallow character,
added the assurance born of a certain small degree of success in
his profession, which he took for the pledge of approaching
supremacy. He carried himself better than he used, and his legs
therefore did not look so long. His hair continued to curl soft
and silky about his head, for he protested against the
fashionable convict-style. His hat was new, and he bore it in
front of him like a ready apology.
It was to no presentableness of person, however, any more than to
previous acquaintance, that Tom now owed his admittance. True, he
had been to Durnmelling not unfrequently, but that was in the
other world of the country, and even there Hesper had taken no
interest in the self-satisfied though not ill-bred youth who went
galloping about the country, showing off to rustic girls. It was
merely, as I have said, that she could no longer endure a
_tete-a-tete_ with one she knew so little as herself, and
whose acquaintance she was so little desirous of cultivating.
Tom had been to a small party at the house a few evenings before,
brought thither by the well-known leader of a certain literary
clique, who, in return for homage, not seldom, took younger
aspirants under a wing destined never to be itself more than
half-fledged.
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