He saw Marcus Wilkeson.
"Best of friends," said Tiffles, with unfeigned joy, "I am glad to see
you. Of course you are going with us, though I hardly dared hope as much
when I sent you the invitation."
"To tell the truth, Tiffles, I had no intention of going, till this
morning, when it suddenly occurred to me that a little trip in the
country, and the fun of seeing your panorama and hearing you lecture,
would drive away the blues. I had a bad fit of them last night."
Here Patching turned, and looked Marcus in the face, without seeming to
recognize him. It was his habit (not a singular one among the human
species) to pretend not to remember people, and to wait for the first
word. Marcus indulged in the same habit to some extent, and, when he saw
Patching looking at him without a nod or a word, he also was blank and
speechless.
"Don't you remember each other?" said Tiffles. "Mr. Patching. Mr. Marcus
Wilkeson."
The gentlemen shook hands, and said:
"Oh, yes! How do you do? It is a fine morning. Very."
"So much paler than when I last saw you, that I didn't know you,
positively.
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