“Four-and-six, with two books out in the middle,” he proclaimed.
Michael could merely nod his comment, though he racked his brains to think of some remark that would betray a vestige of cordiality. Mr. Murdoch got up to retire to the kitchen. He evidently did not find his tenant sympathetic. Outside on the landing Michael heard him say to his wife: “Stuck up la-di-da sort of a ——, isn’t he?”
Presently the wife came up again.
“How did you like my old man?”
“Oh, very much.”
“Did you notice his eye?”
Michael said he had noticed something.
“His brother Fred did that for him.”
She spoke proudly, as if Fred’s act had been a humane achievement. “When they were boys,” she explained. “It gives him a funny look. I remember when I first met him it gave me the creeps, but I don’t notice it really now. Would you believe he couldn’t see an elephant with it?”
“I wondered if it were blind,” said Michael.