In this very frame of mind, and thinking of this very purpose, he came down the street to where Alexander was waiting for him.
“Poor soul!” thought Alick, as he gazed upon him, “he is ageing very fast. His cares are too much for him. Or, perhaps, he has been ill, or in some distress even greater than usual. I ought to have looked after him long ago. I will do it at once.”
And Alick quickened his steps to overtake the poor gentleman, who, in his deep preoccupation of mind, had passed without even lifting his eyes from the ground.
Alexander quickly overtook him, and, lightly touching his arm, said:
“Everage?”
The poor gentleman started, turned around, and, seeing Alexander, looked aghast, as a criminal might at a constable.
“How do you do, Everage? I fear you have been ill,” said Alick.
Everage shook in every limb, and said nothing.
“You have been ill, that is plain enough! Come—shall we hail a cab, and go to Véry’s? It is my turn now, you remember,” said Alick cheerfully.
But Everage continued to gaze at him aghast, until at length he got breath enough to gasp: