"At least," she reminded him, "you are going to see Madame
Christophor!"
She nodded and left them a little abruptly. Kendricks paid their bill and they descended into the street a few minutes later. The commissionaire called a taxi for them and they drove toward Charing-Cross.
"My friend," Kendricks said, "if I had you here for another week, cut off from your old life, I'd show you some things that would astonish you. It's good fortune and these well-ordered ways that keep a man a prig, even after he's finished with Oxford. The man who lives in the clouds of Mayfair knows nothing of the real life of this city."
"Some day I'll come back and be your pupil," Julien promised. "You're a good fellow, David. You've given me something to think about, at any rate, something to think about besides my own misfortunes."
"That's just what I set out to do," Kendricks declared. "There are plenty of bigger tragedies than yours loose in the world. Watch the people, Julien—the people whom such men as you glance over or through as of no account, the common people, the units of life. Strip them bare and they aren't so very different, you know. Try and feel for a moment what they feel. Look at the little dressmaker there, going over to Paris to buy models, hanging on to her husband's arm. She's probably got a shop in the suburbs and this trip is a daring experiment. See how earnestly they are talking about it. I don't think that they have too easy a time to make ends meet. Do you see that old lady there, clinging to her daughter? How she hates to part with her! She is going to a situation, without a doubt, and Paris isn't too easy a place for a girl with hair and eyes like hers. In her heart I think that the old lady is remembering that. Then look at that little old man with the tired eyes, carrying his two valises himself to save the hire of a porter. Can't you tell by the air of him that he has had an unsuccessful business journey? Poor fellow! It's a hard struggle for life, Julien, if you get in the wrong row. You've no one dependent upon you, you don't know the worst agony that can wring a man's heart…. Got your ticket and everything, eh? And that looks like your servant. Are you taking him with you?"
Julien shook his head.
"I shall have to do without a manservant. I never had much money, you know, David."
"So much the better," Kendricks declared heartily. "It gives you a final chance. The gutters of the world are full of good fellows who have been ruined through stepping into a sufficient income."
They found a carriage and arranged Julien's few belongings. Presently mademoiselle's companion came hurrying up the platform, followed by a porter carrying his dressing-case. A short distance behind, mademoiselle, too, was walking, humming to herself.
"Company to Boulogne for you, Julien," Kendricks pointed out. "Your little man from Number 3 Branch is on your track."