That Mr.Crisparkle had been either chooser, lender, or donor of the books, or that he combined the three characters, might have been easily seen in the friendly beam of his eyes upon them as he entered.
'How goes it, Neville ?' 'I am in good heart, Mr.Crisparkle, and working away.' 'I wish your eyes were not quite so large and not quite so bright,' said the Minor Canon, slowly releasing the hand he had taken in his.
'They brighten at the sight of you,' returned Neville.

'If you were to fall away from me, they would soon be dull enough.' 'Rally, rally!' urged the other, in a stimulating tone.

'Fight for it, Neville!' 'If I were dying, I feel as if a word from you would rally me; if my pulse had stopped, I feel as if your touch would make it beat again,' said Neville.

'But I _have_ rallied, and am doing famously.' Mr.Crisparkle turned him with his face a little more towards the light.
'I want to see a ruddier touch here, Neville,' he said, indicating his own healthy cheek by way of pattern.

'I want more sun to shine upon you.' Neville drooped suddenly, as he replied in a lowered voice: 'I am not hardy enough for that, yet.