The single gentleman, perhaps because he had met with such things in his travels, or perhaps because he was a single gentleman, evinced no surprise, but merely inquired ‘Wife or sister?’—‘Sister,’ said Dick.—‘So much the better,’ said the single gentleman, ‘he can get rid of her when he likes.’
‘I want to do as I like, young man,’ he added after a short silence; ‘to go to bed when I like, get up when I like, come in when I like, go out when I like—to be asked no questions and be surrounded by no spies. In this last respect, servants are the devil. There’s only one here.’
‘And a very little one,’ said Dick.
‘And a very little one,’ repeated the lodger. ‘Well, the place will suit me, will it?’
‘Yes,’ said Dick.
‘Sharks, I suppose?’ said the lodger.
Dick nodded assent, and drained his glass.
‘Let them know my humour,’ said the single gentleman, rising. ‘If they disturb me, they lose a good tenant. If they know me to be that, they know enough. If they try to know more, it’s a notice to quit. It’s better to understand these things at once. Good day.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Dick, halting in his passage to the door, which the lodger prepared to open. ‘When he who adores thee has left but the name—’
‘What do you mean?’