Finding himself at this supper, surrounded by faces with which he had
been so well acquainted in old times, Mr Willet recurred to the subject
with uncommon vigour; apparently resolved to understand it now or never.
Sometimes, after every two or three mouthfuls, he laid down his knife
and fork, and stared at his son with all his might--particularly at his
maimed side; then, he looked slowly round the table until he caught some
person's eye, when he shook his head with great solemnity, patted his
shoulder, winked, or as one may say--for winking was a very slow process
with him--went to sleep with one eye for a minute or two; and so, with
another solemn shaking of his head, took up his knife and fork
again, and went on eating. Sometimes, he put his food into his mouth
abstractedly, and, with all his faculties concentrated on Joe, gazed at
him in a fit of stupefaction as he cut his meat with one hand, until he
was recalled to himself by symptoms of choking on his own part, and was
by that means restored to consciousness. At other times he resorted to
such small devices as asking him for the salt, the pepper, the vinegar,
the mustard--anything that was on his maimed side--and watching him as
he handed it.
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