Heretofore I had
associated Fin with simple country life--as a cheery craftsman--a
Jack-of-all-trades: one day attired in overalls, with paste-pot, shears,
and ladder, brightening the walls of the humble cottagers, and the next
in polo cap and ragged white sweater, the gift of some summer visitor
(his invariable costume with me), adapting himself to the peaceful needs
of the river. Here, on the contrary and to my great surprise, was a
cosmopolitan; a man versed in the dark and devious ways of a great city;
familiar with life in its widest sense; one who had touched on many
sides and who knew the cafes, the rear entrances to the theatres, and
the short cut to St. John's Wood with the best and worst of them. These
discoveries came with a certain shock, but they did not impair my
interest in my companion. They really endeared him to me all the more.
After this I was no longer content with listening to his rambling
dissertations on whatever happened to rise in his memory and throat. I
began to direct the output.
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