By this time the train was
moving out of the station, and into the faint gray of the wintry
twilight beyond.
I now recognized my companion. I recognized him from the moment when
he removed his hat and uncovered the lofty, furrowed, and somewhat
narrow brow beneath. I had met him, as I distinctly remembered, some
three years before, at the very house for which, in all probability,
he was now bound, like myself. His name was Dwerrihouse; he was a lawyer
by profession; and, if I was not greatly mistaken, was first-cousin
to the wife of my host. I knew also that he was a man eminently "well
to do," both as regarded his professional and private means. The Jelfs
entertained him with that sort of observant courtesy which falls to
the lot of the rich relation; the children made much of him; and the
old butler, albeit somewhat surly "to the general," treated him with
deference. I thought, observing him by the vague mixture of lamplight
and twilight, that Mrs. Jelf's cousin looked all the worse for the three
years' wear and tear which had gone over his head since our last meeting.
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