Mr. Newsome was tall and broad and well on the way to portliness. His
limbs were massive and slow of movement and his head large, with a
mane of slightly graying hair flung back from a wide, unfurrowed brow.
Small and very black eyes pierced out from crinkled heavy lids and a
bulldog jaw shot out from under a fat beak of a nose. And over the
broad expanse of countenance was spread a smile so sweet, so deep, so
high that it gave the impression of obscuring the form of features
entirely. In point of fact it was a thick and impenetrable veil that
the Senator had for long hung before his face from behind which to
view the world at large. And through his mouth, as through a rent in
the smile, he was wont to pour out a volume of voice as musical in its
drawl and intensified southern burr as the bass note on a
well-seasoned 'cello.
He was performing the obligato of a prohibition hymn for the group of
farmers around him when he caught sight of Everett as he came across
the street. Instantly his voice was lowered to a honeyed
conversational pitch as he came to the edge of the porch and held out
a large, fat, white hand, into which Everett laid his own by courtesy
perforced.
"I'm delighted to see you, Mr. Everett, suh, delighted!" he boomed.
"And in such evident improved health. I inquired for you at Bolivar as
soon as I returned and I was informed that you had come over here to
find perfect restoration to health in the salubrious climate of this
wonderful town of Sweetbriar.
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