Adela's playing had been going on in a desultory kind of manner, broken every now and then by her conversation with John Saltram, and had evidently been intended to give pleasure only to that one listener.
While she was still playing in this careless fitful way, a servant announced Mr.Pallinson; and a gentleman entered whom Gilbert had no difficulty in recognizing as the son of the lady he had been conversing with.

This new-comer was a tall pale-faced young man, with intensely penetrating black eyes exactly like his mother's, sharp well-cut features, and an extreme precision of dress and manner.

His hands, which were small and thin, were remarkable for their whiteness, and were set-off by spotless wristbands, which it was his habit to smooth fondly with his slim fingers in the intervals of his discourse.

Mrs.Pallinson rose and embraced this gentleman with stately affection.
"My son Theobald--Mr.Fenton," she said.

"My son is a medical practitioner, residing at Maida-hill; and it is a pleasure to him to spend an occasional evening with his cousin Adela and myself." "Whenever the exigencies of professional life leave me free to enjoy that happiness," Mr.Pallinson added in a brisk semi-professional manner.
"Adela has been giving you some music, I see.