“Poor devil....” Then he added: “Did he mind very much?”
“Very much.”
“Funny thing, you wouldn’t think he would.”
“Why not,” I asked.
“Oh, he looks a hard sort of fellow—as though he’d stand anything. I wouldn’t like to have a row with him.”
“Has he been to the Markovitches much lately?”
“Yes—almost every evening.”
“What does he do there?”
“Oh, just sits and talks. Markovitch can’t bear him. You can see that easily enough. He teases him.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.