In
all this he was most unjust to both of them. He was specially
unjust to poor Larry, who was by no means a wretch. His costume was
not that to which Morton had been accustomed in Germany, nor would
it have passed without notice in Bond Street. But it was rational
and clean. When he came to the bridge to meet his sweetheart he had
on a dark-green shooting coat, a billicock hat, brown breeches, and
gaiters nearly up to his knees. I don't know that a young man in
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.
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