“I'm glad of your good luck, Tom,” said Grant, and he spoke sincerely. “I hope you'll keep your agency.”
“Oh, I guess I will! A feller like me is pretty sure of a good livin', anyway. Hello, Jim!”
This last was addressed to a flashily dressed individual—the same one, in fact, that Grant had seen on a former occasion with Tom.
“Who's your friend?” asked Jim, with a glance at Grant.
“Grant Thornton. He's from my place in the country. He's in the office of Mr. Reynolds, a broker in New Street.”
“Introduce me.”
“Grant, let me make you acquainted with my friend, Jim Morrison,” said Tom, with a flourish.
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Thornton,” said Jim Morrison, jauntily, offering his hand.
“Thank you,” said Grant, in a reserved tone; for he was not especially attracted by the look of Tom's friend. He shook hands, however.
“Come 'round and see us some evenin', Grant,” said Tom. “We'll take you round, won't we, Jim?”