man of fifty, with something of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness—you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.
'I have been wanting to speak to you, Jekyll,' began the latter. 'You know that will of yours?'
A close observer might have gathered that the topic was distasteful; but the doctor carried it off gaily. 'My poor Utterson,' said he, 'you are unfortunate in such a client. I never saw a man so distressed as you were by my will; unless it were that hide-bound pedant, Lanyon, at what he called my scientific heresies. O, I know he's a good fellow—you needn't frown—an excellent fellow, and I always mean to see more of him; but a hide-bound pedant for all that; an ignorant, blatant pedant. I was never more disappointed in any man than Lanyon.'
'You know I never approved of it,' pursued Utterson, ruthlessly disregarding the fresh topic.
'My will? Yes, certainly, I know that,' said the doctor, a trifle sharply. 'You have told me so.'
