‘I shall expect a satisfactory settlement at the end of this week, Mr. Armstrong,’ she said icily. ‘Unless I get it from you I shall write to your home for it, and in any case I shall be obliged if you will leave.’
‘Very well,’ said Paul.
He thought all this rather unprosperous for a beginning of a free life, but he cared astonishingly little. If he had looked at the prospect, he might have begun to think it in a small way very serious. Recalling the time as he sat in his mountain eyrie, he found in it the first indication of his own irresponsibility, a knack of blinding himself to consequences.
Monday came, and he dined. It did not seem worth while to deny himself any further. Tuesday came, and in the middle of the morning’s work a man rapped on his case with a composing-stick, and said aloud, ‘I call a Chapel.’ Mr. Warr turned on Paul, and told him he must go outside and wait until such time as the meeting thus summoned was over. He and three apprentices clustered on the landing. The doors were closed, and they waited for half an hour.
At the end of that time they were re-admitted, and Paul was solemnly escorted to the old man with the skull-cap.
‘I have a question to ask you, Mr. Armstrong,’ the old gentleman began. ‘Were you properly indentured to this business.’
‘No,’ said Paul. ‘I picked up what I know about it in my father’s office.’
‘You were never bound apprentice?’
‘No.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Armstrong, that will do.’