His fellows in the box
had that appearance of falling between two classes characteristic of
jurymen. Mr. Bosengate was not impressed. On one side of him the foreman
sat, a prominent upholsterer, known in the town as "Gentleman Fox." His
dark and beautifully brushed and oiled hair and moustache, his radiant
linen, gold watch and chain, the white piping to his waistcoat, and a
habit of never saying "Sir" had long marked him out from commoner
men; he undertook to bury people too, to save them trouble; and was
altogether superior. On the other side Mr. Bosengate had one of those
men, who, except when they sit on juries, are never seen without a
little brown bag, and the appearance of having been interrupted in a
drink. Pale and shiny, with large loose eyes shifting from side to
side, he had an underdone voice and uneasy flabby hands. Mr. Bosengate
disliked sitting next to him. Beyond this commercial traveller sat a
dark pale young man with spectacles; beyond him again, a short old man
with grey moustache, mutton chops, and innumerable wrinkles; and the
front row was completed by a chemist. The three immediately behind, Mr.
Bosengate did not thoroughly master; but the three at the end of the
second row he learned in their order of an oldish man in a grey suit,
given to winking; an inanimate person with the mouth of a moustachioed
codfish, over whose long bald crown three wisps of damp hair were
carefully arranged; and a dried, dapperish, clean-shorn man, whose mouth
seemed terrified lest it should be surprised without a smile.
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