He is tallish and narrow, sixty-eight years old,
grey, with narrow little whiskers curling round his narrow ears, and
a narrow bow-ribbon curling round his collar. He wears a long,
narrow-tailed coat, and strapped trousers on his narrow legs. His
nose and face are narrow, shrewd, and kindly. He has a way of
narrowing his shrewd and kindly eyes. His nose is seen to twitch
and snig.
TWISDEN. Ah! How are you, Charles? How do you do, my dear?
MARGARET. Dear Mr Jacob, I'm smoking. Isn't it disgusting? But they
don't allow it in Court, you know. Such a pity! The Judge might have a
hookah. Oh! wouldn't he look sweet--the darling!
TWISDEN. [With a little, old-fashioned bow] It does not become everybody
as it becomes you, Margaret.
MARGARET. Mr Jacob, how charming! [With a slight grimace she puts out
her cigarette].
GRAVITER. Man called Gilman waiting in there to see you specially.
TWISDEN. Directly. Turn up the light, would you, Graviter?
GRAVITER. [Turning up the light] Excuse me.
He goes.
WINSOR. Look here, Mr Twisden--
TWISDEN. Sit down; sit down, my dear.
And he himself sits behind the table, as a cup of tea is brought in
to him by the YOUNG CLERK, with two Marie biscuits in the saucer.
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