"It was a friend of mine, Madame. He knew that I wanted to get into the Dickens world, and suggested this house. I am not disappointed--oh, not at all--" and Leonard glanced at Margery, who was fat, dull and stupid in her looks. She certainly resembled one of Dickens's characters, but he could not recollect which at the moment.
"Do I know the gentleman?" asked Madame, who seemed anxious.
"I don't think so. But he is coming to see me to-night."
"You must ask him in here and introduce him. I should like to thank him for having recommended my house."
"We were going to have a conversation in my room," said Train, dubiously; "he's such a shy fellow that I don't think he'll come in."
"Oh! but, he must; I love young people." Madame looked round and shrugged. "It is rather dreary here at times, Mr. Train."
"I can quite believe that," replied Leonard, who already was beginning to find the Dickens types rather boring. "Who is that tall old man with the long hair?"
"Hush! He may hear you. His name is Rasper. A great inventor, a most distinguished man."
"What has he invented?"
"Oh, all sorts of things," replied Mrs. Jersey, vaguely. "His name is quite a household word in Clapham. See, he's inventing something now." Mr. Rasper, who had rather a haggard appearance, as though he used his brains too much, was glooming over the back of an envelope and the stump of a pencil. He frowned as he chewed this latter, and seemed bent upon working out an abstruse problem. "But it will really will not do, Mr. Train," said Madame, shaking her head till "the diamonds" twinkled; "this is our evening of relaxation. But Miss Bull, against all precedent, is playing 'Patience,' and here is Mr. Rasper inventing." She rose to interrupt Mr. Rasper, but remained to ask Leonard if his friend was stopping the night.