Mrs. Dove and the children are down at
Ramsgate, and he's here all night. He hadn't been out for so long that
when he wanted to go as far as the Temple yesterday we couldn't find his
hat." Then the clerk opened the door, and ushered Mr. Camperdown into the
room. Mr. Dove was the younger man by five or six years, and his hair was
still black. Mr. Camperdown's was nearer white than gray; but,
nevertheless, Mr. Camperdown looked as though he were the younger man. Mr.
Dove was a long, thin man, with a stoop in his shoulders, with deep-set,
hollow eyes, and lantern cheeks, and sallow complexion, with long, thin
hands, who seemed to acknowledge by every movement of his body and every
tone of his voice that old age was creeping on him; whereas the attorney's
step was still elastic, and his speech brisk. Mr. Camperdown wore a blue
frock-coat, and a coloured cravat, and a light waist-coat. With Mr. Dove
every visible article of his raiment was black, except his shirt, and he
had that peculiar blackness which a man achieves when he wears a dress-
coat over a high black waistcoat in the morning.
"You didn't make much, I fear, of what I sent you about heirlooms," said
Mr.
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