“I mean, Mr. Benton.”
“Perhaps I was when I begun. But now I am nineteen.”
“Nineteen?”
“Yes, that is to say, I'm within a few months of being nineteen. What do you think of my moustache?”
“I hadn't noticed it.”
“The store's rather dark,” muttered Mr. Benton, who seemed a little annoyed by this answer. “If you'll come a little nearer you can see it.”
Drawing near, Paul, after some trouble, descried a few scattering hairs.
“Yes,” said he, wanting to laugh, “I see it.”
“Coming on finely, isn't it?” asked Mr. Nicholas Benton, complacently.
“Yes,” said Paul, rather doubtfully.