"What did yer think of 'im," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"A book-worm, isn't he—but what do you say if we discuss him over a glass of beer and some bread and cheese?"
"Good!" said Butts, and with an alacrity that delighted me, he led the way by the servants' staircase to the pantry on the ground floor. For beer, however, he gave me port wine, and for bread and cheese a cold partridge.
"You seem to live well here," I commented with my mouth full.
"So so!" answered Butts with a sigh. "Tucker's all right—but it's so cursed lonely. Master never goes out, except to meals, and it's very seldom he hever has any company here, honly about once a month."
"Oh! a bit of a hermit, eh?"
"A bloomin' misanthrope—that's what I call him! He 'ates noise like poison. Hif I was to drop a plate 'e'd ring to know what the devil I meant by it?"
"Married?"
"No. He 'ates women wors'n noise, I believe."
"How does he pass his time?"