Let it be borne in mind, however, that he had no special reason for stating, nor I for agreeing, that it was a “fine evening.” On the contrary, it was dark and cloudy, and looked like rain.
“How far are you going?” he asked.
“To Philadelphia,” I frankly replied.
“Ah? So am I.”
“Do you live there?” I queried.
“No; but I have an uncle there—a merchant——”
“What street?” I asked, pertly.
“Why—I—O, yes! Market street.” He then changed the subject, and said: “I see you have lost a leg.”
“Yes,” I assented.
“In the war, I suppose?”