“All that’ll be a great help to you. What’s been your occupation?”
“’atter.”
As our host was less used to the silent “h” than I, it became necessary for me to say, “Hatter, sir.”
I suppose it was my voice. Christian looked up quickly, studying me with a long, kind, deep regard. Had I been walking two thousand years ago on the hills of Palestine and met Some One on the road, he might have looked at me like that.
The glance fell. Lovey’s interrogation continued.
“And would you like that kind of job again—if we could get it for you—ultimately?”
“I don’t want no job, Your Honor. I can look after myself. I didn’t come in ’ere of my own free will—nor to pass the buck—nor nothink.”
There was an inflection of surprise, perhaps of disapproval in the tone.
“You didn’t come in here of your own free will? I think it’s the first time that’s been said in the history of the club. May I ask how it happened?”