Quite as usual, he looked as if he had that moment left the hands of
a most scrupulous valet. No wonder Louis's first thought was, as he
looked at him, that people gave him credit for caring only for
externals. One would not have said at first glance that he had ever
soiled his hands with any labour more tiring than that of putting on
his gloves. And yet, studying him more closely in the light of the
revelations his friend had made, was there not in his attractive face
more strength and force than Louis had ever observed before?
"How goes it this morning, Hugh?" was the new-comer's greeting. He
grasped the thin hand of the convalescent, smiling down at him. Then he
shook hands with Louis, saying, "It's good of such a busy man to come in
and cheer up this idle one," and sat down as if he had come to stay. But
he had no proprietary air, and when a nurse looked in he only bowed
gravely, as if he had not often seen her before. If Louis had not known
he would not have imagined that Richard's hand in the affair of Benson's
illness had been other than that of a casual caller.
Louis Gray went away presently, thinking it over.
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