It was market-day. Moore arrived in time to take his usual place at the market dinner. As something of a stranger, and as a man of note and action, the assembled manufacturers received him with a certain distinction. Some, who in public would scarcely have dared to acknowledge his acquaintance, lest a little of the hate and vengeance laid up in store for him should perchance have fallen on them, in private hailed him as in some sort their champion. When the wine had circulated, their respect would have kindled to enthusiasm had not Moore's unshaken nonchalance held it in a damp, low, smouldering state.
Mr. Yorke, the permanent president of these dinners, witnessed his young friend's bearing with exceeding complacency. If one thing could stir his temper or excite his contempt more than another, it was to see a man befooled by flattery or elate with popularity. If one thing smoothed, soothed, and charmed him especially, it was the spectacle of a public character incapable of relishing his publicity--_incapable_, I say. Disdain would but have incensed; it was indifference that appeased his rough spirit.

It was market-day. Moore arrived in time to take his usual place at the market dinner, where the assembled manufacturers received him with distinction, daring in private to do what they would not do in public - hailing him as their champion. Moore's unshaken nonchalance dampened their enthusiasm and held it in a low, smouldering state.
Mr. Yorke, the president of these dinners, witnessed his young friend's bearing complacently. He despised men who were fooled by flattery or popularity. Indifference appeased his rough spirit.
