All this was in the bosom of the boy, and through it all the vision of an actual hob-nail Tom, coarse, unkempt, open from ear to ear; whose presence was a finger of shame to him and an oppression of clodpole; yet toward whom he felt just then a loving-kindness beyond what he felt for any living creature.

He laughed at him, and wept over him.

He prized him, while he shrank from him.

It was a genial strife of the angel in him with constituents less divine; but the angel was uppermost and led the van--extinguished loathing, humanized laughter, transfigured pride--pride that would persistently contemplate the corduroys of gaping Tom, and cry to Richard, in the very tone of Adrian's ironic voice, "Behold your benefactor!" Austin sat by the boy, unaware of the sublimer tumult he had stirred.
Little of it was perceptible in Richard's countenance.

The lines of his mouth were slightly drawn; his eyes hard set into the distance.