One could see plain enough--and very grateful to me was the sight--that whether or no Abel Fletcher acknowledged it, his right hand in all his business affairs was the lad John Halifax.
On a lovely August day we started for Enderley.

It was about eight miles off, on a hilly, cross-country road.

We lumbered slowly along in our post-chaise; I leaning back, enjoying the fresh air, the changing views, and chiefly to see how intensely John enjoyed them too.
He looked extremely well to-day--handsome, I was about to write; but John was never, even in his youth, "handsome." Nay, I have heard people call him "plain"; but that was not true.

His face had that charm, perhaps the greatest, certainly the most lasting, either in women or men--of infinite variety.

You were always finding out something--an expression strange as tender, or the track of a swift, brilliant thought, or an indication of feeling different from, perhaps deeper than, anything which appeared before.