The visitor stood, when the door had closed, gazing silently down at the recumbent figure, while Julius, amazed at the form which his Nemesis had taken, gazed up silently and lugubriously at the intruder.
All the methods of Mr. John Wray were in conformity with his portly rotundity, his slow respectability, his unimaginative commercialism.
The young man found speech first. "Why this unexpected pleasure?" he asked ceremoniously, but with a satiric inflection.
"Sorry to intrude, I'm sure," said the elder. "But my name is John Wray of Manchester, England."
The skies had fallen on Julius. He strove to recover himself.
"And do you like it?" he asked vacuously.
"You seemed to like it well enough to register it."
"With a 'Junior,' if you please."
The other fixed him with a stare of round blue eyes. "I think I understand you, sir."
"Very possibly," said poor Julius. "I am not very deep."