“Ah, my friend!” he murmured.
Julius, at a loss for a suitable response, played for safety.
“Good-evening, sir,” he said, and patted his fellow Roman on the head.
“The one friend I have in this house—the one understanding soul! The one honest creature that is faithful to my memory.”
Mr. Dempsi invariably spoke of himself as though he had recently returned from a brief holiday in heaven.
“I wouldn’t say that, sir,” said Julius generously. “There are others.”
“I do say it! I, Guiseppi Dempsi! Who denies my right?” he demanded fiercely.
Julius backed off.
“Not me, sir, I’m sure,” he said hastily. “It’s the last thing in the world I’d dream of doing.”
Guiseppi grew gentle again.