“I suppose so,” (trying to shake him off, but it would not do.)
“You come from London, I think, sir.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Only because a great many London people come this way, sir.”
“But do not many other travellers come this road, who are not Londoners?”
“Oh, yes, sir! but I took you for a Londoner by the cut of your coat. You’ve come a long way to-day, sir?”
“I have, but how should you know that?”
“By the condition of your boots, sir.”
This was a hit I did not anticipate; for, truth to say I was nearly bootless, at least the soles had nearly left their bodies, upper leathers I mean, and stood mortally in need of regeneration; and, as I had not provided myself with a second pair, thinking they would prove cumbersome in my knapsack, his remark was felt from toe to heel.
“You’ll want these repaired, I dare say, sir, while you remain at the Oakeley Arms—comfortable inn—capital beds, sir.”