In order to pass him, Septimus Marvin would need to step into the road.

This he did, without resentment; with, indeed, a courtly and vague inclination of the head toward the human obstruction.
"Look here, Sep," said Turner, "you are not going to pass an old schoolfellow like that." Septimus Marvin lurched onward one or two steps, with long loose strides.

Then he clutched his carpet-bag with both hands and looked back at his interlocutor, with the scared eyes of a detected criminal.

This gave place to the habitual gentle smile when, at last, the recognition was complete.
"What have you got there ?" asked Turner, pointing with his stick at the carpet-bag.

"A kitten ?" "No--no," replied Marvin, looking this way and that, to make sure that none could overhear.
"A Nanteuil--engraved from his own drawing, Jack--a real Nanteuil.