But you know my opinion of
you.'
Mr Pecksniff, still having 'hypocrite' in his mind, only replied by a
motion of his head, which was something between an affirmative bow, and
a negative shake.
'Complimentary,' said Anthony. 'Complimentary, upon my word. It was an
involuntary tribute to your abilities, even at the time; and it was not
a time to suggest compliments either. But we agreed in the coach, you
know, that we quite understood each other.'
'Oh, quite!' assented Mr Pecksniff, in a manner which implied that he
himself was misunderstood most cruelly, but would not complain.
Anthony glanced at his son as he sat beside Miss Charity, and then at Mr
Pecksniff, and then at his son again, very many times. It happened that
Mr Pecksniff's glances took a similar direction; but when he became
aware of it, he first cast down his eyes, and then closed them; as if he
were determined that the old man should read nothing there.
'Jonas is a shrewd lad,' said the old man.
'He appears,' rejoined Mr Pecksniff in his most candid manner, 'to be
very shrewd.'
'And careful,' said the old man.
Pages:
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373