“Is that your name—M. Paul?” he asked, looking up at him.
“Oh, bless you, no; that’s only her Frenchified way of putting it. My name is Paul, though—Paul Muniment.”
“And what’s your trade?” Hyacinth demanded, with a jump into familiarity; for his companion seemed to have told him a great deal more than was usually conveyed in that item of information.
Paul Muniment looked down at him from above broad shoulders. “I work at a wholesale chemist’s, at Lambeth.”
“And where do you live?”
“I live over the water, too; in the far south of London.”
“And are you going home now?”
“Oh yes, I am going to toddle.”
“And may I toddle with you?”
Mr Muniment considered him further; then he gave a laugh. “I’ll carry you, if you like.”