‘Paul Armstrong, sir.’
‘Armstrong? Armstrong? Father’s house here in the High Street? Printer and stationer? Ah! Old Bill Armstrong. Ayrshire Scotch. Anti-Corn Law. Villiers’ Committee. I know him. How do you get on together—eh?’
‘My father, sir? He’s the dearest friend I have in the world.’
‘That’s as it should be. Tell me about yourself. What are you?’
‘I work in the office.’
‘Compositor?’
‘Compositor and pressman.’
‘Many a nugget has come out of that pocket What do you read? Tennyson, I know. Whom else?’
‘Anything I can get, Mr. Ralston.9
‘Tell me. You’re eighteen at a guess. Tell me last year’s love and this year’s love, and I’ll prophesy.’