“You talk, doubtless, with knowledge, sir,” said I, glad to say something that might offend him.
“I do,” said he, seriously, and not taking the smallest account of the impertinent allusion. “I know that if a man has n't a fixed calling, but is always turning his hand to this, that, and t' other, he will very soon cease to have any character whatsoever; he 'll just become as shifty in his nature as in his business. I 've seen scores of fellows wrecked on that rock, and I had n't looked at you twice till I saw you were one of them.”
“I must say, sir,” said I, summoning to my aid what I felt to be a most cutting sarcasm of manner,—“I must say, sir, that, considering how short has been the acquaintance which has subsisted between us, it would be extremely difficult for me to show how gratefully I feel the interest you have taken in me.”
“Well, I 'm not so sure of that,” said he, thoughtfully.
“May I ask, then, how?”
“Are you sure, first of all, that you wish to show this gratitude you speak of?”
“Oh, sir, can you possibly doubt it?”
“I don't want to doubt it, I want to profit by it.”
I made a bland bow that might mean anything, but did not speak.
“Here's the way of it,” said he, boldly. “Rigges has run off with all my loose cash, and though there 's money waiting for me at certain places, I shall find it very difficult to reach them. I have come down here on foot from Wild-bad, and I can make my way in the same fashion, to Marseilles or Genoa; but then comes the difficulty, and I shall need about ten pounds to get to Malta. Could you lend me ten pounds?”