He had on his long overcoat, which seemed almost to drag him down, big as he is, with its weight; and the pockets were bulging dropsically—if there is such a word. His instrument case he deposited in the car, right in the way of my feet, but when I tried to move it I found that it would not budge.
"Are you tired?" he asked, as he began to crank the car.
"I'm tired and cold—and hungry."
"All of which will soon be remedied," and he smiled as he looked at me. "Ann, you never saw a man in my condition before in your life."
"What?"
He had a hard time working his way into the car with those bulging pockets, but he finally got fixed satisfactorily, then he moved the heavy instrument case; and I gave my feet several relieved shakes.
"Very likely for the first time in your young life you behold a man who has more money than he knows what to do with!"
"Money!" I edged away respectfully to give the pockets more room. "Is it money?"
"Every pound of it is coin of the realm," he answered. "It is nickels."
"Alfred!"