“I'll be back,” Anthony told him. He turned, and collided with a man entering suddenly from the street. He was past middle age, with a long, pallid countenance, drooping snuff-colored mustache, a preoccupied gaze behind bluish glasses, and was clad in correct brown linen, but wore an incongruously battered and worn soft hat.
“I want a man to drive my car,” he announced abruptly. “I don't particularly care for a highly expert individual, but his habits—” he broke off, and muttered, “superficial adjustment to environment—popular conception of acquired characteristics.” Then, “must be moderate,” he ended unexpectedly.
Anthony lingered, while the clerk assured the other that several highly desirable individuals were available. “In fact,” he told him, “one left the office only a few minutes ago; I will have him call upon you in the morning.”
“What's this?” he replied, indicating Anthony; “is he a chauffeur?” The clerk nodded. “But,” he added, “the man I refer to is older, more experienced... sure to satisfy you.”
“What references have you?” the prospective employer demanded.
“None,” Anthony answered directly. The clerk dismissed his chances with a gesture.
“What experience?” the other persisted. “Driving on and off for four or five years, and I am a fair mechanic.”
“Fair only?”
“That's all, sir.”
The older man drew nearer to Anthony, scrutinizing him with a kindly severity. “What's the matter with your head?” he demanded.