Upon a closer inspection he discovered that he was the lad whom he remembered having seen about the neighbourhood of Broxbridge during his sojourn in that locality, and hence it was that he had presented Alf with the shilling.
Peace did not care to make any enquiries as to why the lad was in London, as he had his newly-formed friend with him, and, therefore, contented himself by giving the much-prized coin.
Had he been alone he would have questioned Alf, but, under existing circumstances, prudence directed that he should refrain from doing so.
Peace at this time was passing himself off as a gentleman of independent means: to make use of a common phrase he was “cutting a dash.”
How long his means would last, or how long the character would suit him, time would show.
He did the grand at this time to his heart’s content, and half persuaded himself that the life of a gentleman was his proper and legitimate sphere of action.
Alf Purvis wended his way down Parliament-street towards Westminster. He was ravenously hungry, and upon his reaching Tothill-street his attention was directed to an eating-house on the opposite side of the way.
In the window of this the savoury steam from the joints proved to be too much for him; he crossed over and gazed wistfully at the dainties displayed so temptingly in the shop.
He entered and ordered a plate of meat and vegetables; these he devoured, as may be imagined, with infinite relish. He was still hungry, so he finished his repast with a slice of pudding, or “plum duff,” as it is termed.
After he had paid the reckoning he had but fourpence left out of the shilling Peace had given him.