Boniface drummed slowly upon his knees with the long, bony
white fingers, and rocked to and fro mechanically, as he sat.
When Lawrence had ended his greetings there was a pause. Mrs. Newt seemed
to be painfully conscious of it. So did Mr. Bennet, whose eyes wandered
about the room, resting for a few instants upon Boniface, then sliding
toward his wife. Boniface himself seemed to be entirely unconscious of
any pause, or of any person, or of any thing, except some mysterious
erratic measure that he was beating with the bony fingers.
"It is a great while since we have met, Mrs. Newt," said Mrs. Bennet.
"Yes," returned Mrs. Nancy Newt, rapidly; "and now that we are to be so
very nearly related, it is really high time that we became intimate."
She looked, however, very far off from intimacy with the person she
addressed.
"I am glad our children are so happy, Mrs. Newt," said Gerald Bennet, in
a tremulous voice, with his eyes glimmering.
"Yes. I am glad Gabriel's prospects are so good," returned Mrs. Newt.
"I've no doubt he'll be a very rich man very soon."
When she had spoken, Boniface Newt, still drumming, turned his face and
looked quietly at his wife. Nobody spoke. Gabriel only winced at what
May's mother had said; and they all looked at Boniface. The old man gazed
fixedly at his wife as if he saw nobody else, and as if he were repeating
the words to which the bony fingers beat time.
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