As Mike entered, he fumbled in his top
left waistcoat pocket, produced an eyeglass attached to a cord, and
fixed it in his right eye. With the help of this aid to vision he
inspected Mike in silence for a while, then, having flicked an invisible
speck of dust from the left sleeve of his coat, he spoke.
"Hello," he said.
He spoke in a tired voice.
"Hello," said Mike.
"Take a seat," said the immaculate one. "If you don't mind dirtying your
bags, that's to say. Personally, I don't see any prospect of ever
sitting down in this place. It looks to me as if they meant to use these
chairs as mustard-and-cress beds. A Nursery Garden in the Home. That
sort of idea. My name," he added pensively, "is Smith. What's yours?"
3
PSMITH
"Jackson," said Mike.
"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led
Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?"
"The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I
don't know."
"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?"
"Yes! Why, are you new?"
"Do I look as if I belonged here? I'm the latest import. Sit down on
yonder settee, and I will tell you the painful story of my life.
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