He was wearing a light
tweed suit, with a fancy waistcoat and a hard, pale-grey hat. As he
aged, his tendency to striking pale attire was becoming accentuated;
at any rate, it had the advantage of harmonizing with his unique
whiskers--those whiskers which differentiated him from all the rest of
the human race in the Five Towns.
Rachel blushed, partly because he was suddenly so close to her, partly
because she disapproved of the cunning expression on his red, seamed
face and was afraid he might divine her thoughts, and partly because
she recalled the violent things she had said against him to Louis. But
as soon as Thomas Batchgrew caught sight of her the expression of his
faced changed in an instant to one of benevolence and artless joy; the
change in it was indeed dramatic.
And Rachel, pleased and flattered, said to herself, almost startled--
"He really admires me. And I do believe he always did."
And since admiration is a sweet drug, whether offered by a rascal
or by the pure in heart, she forgot momentarily the horror of her
domestic dilemma.
II
"Eh, lass!" Thomas Batchgrew was saying familiarly, after he had
inquired about Louis, "I'm rare glad for thy sake it was no worse.
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