I had to pretend that I didn’t want to interrupt the conducting of business to conceal the fact that I was unable to reply.
“You’ve worked in New York, too?” he began again, when there was a chance of speaking.
I had by this time so far recovered myself as to be able to tell him the names of my various employers. I didn’t add that they had fired me one after another because of my drinking-spells, since I supposed he would take that for granted.
“Ever thought of Barry’s?”
“I brought a letter of introduction to him from McArdle, of Montreal; but I never presented it.”
“Pity.”
“Yes, perhaps it was. But you see I didn’t like McArdle’s work, though I studied under him. As I was afraid of getting into the same old rut, I went to Pritchard.”
“What do you think of Barry’s things now?”
“Oh, I like them—though they’re not so severe as I should go in for myself. The modern French is a little too florid, and he goes them one better.”
“Just my feeling. I should like you to see a bit of work I’ve been doing on my own; rather a big order—for me, that is—in which I’ve had to be as American as the deuce, and yet keep to the best lines.”