the country could wear more suitable attire. And he was a well-made
man, just such a one as, in this dress, would take the eye of a
country girl. There was a little bit of dash about him, just a
touch of swagger, which better breeding might have prevented. But
it was not enough to make him odious to an unprejudiced observer. I
could fancy that an old lady from London, with an eye in her head
for manly symmetry, would have liked to look at Larry, and would
have thought that a girl in Mary's position would be happy in
having such a lover, providing that his character was good and his
means adequate. But Reginald Morton was not an old woman, and to
his eyes the smart young farmer with his billicock hat, not quite
straight on his head, was an odious thing to behold. He exaggerated
the swagger, and took no notice whatever of the well-made limbs.
And then this man had proposed to accompany him, had wanted to join
his party, had thought it possible that a flirtation might be
carried on in his presence! He sincerely hated the man. But what
was he to think of such a girl as Mary Masters when she could bring
herself to like the attentions of such a lover?

He was very cross with himself because he knew how unreasonable was
his anger. Of one thing only could he assure himself,--that he
would never again willingly put himself in Mary's company. What was
Dillsborough and the ways of its inhabitants to him? Why should he
so far leave the old fashions of his life as to fret himself about
an attorney's daughter in a little English town? And yet he did
fret himself, walking rapidly, and smoking his pipe a great deal
quicker than was his custom.

When he was about to return home he passed the front of the house,
and there, standing at the open door, he saw Mrs. Hopkins, the