I stood outside a shoemaker's shop far down in Carl Johann Street, almost at the railway square. God knows why I stood just outside this shoemaker's shop. I looked into the window as I stood there, but did not, by the way, remember that I needed shoes then; my thoughts were far away in other parts of the world. A swarm of people talking together passed behind my back, and I heard nothing of what was said. Then a voice greeted me loudly:
"Good-evening."
It was "Missy" who bade me good-evening! I answered at random, I looked at him, too, for a while, before I recognized him.
"Well, how are you getting along?" he inquired.
"Oh, always well ... as usual."
"By the way, tell me," said he, "are you, then, still with Christie?"
"Christie?"
"I thought you once said you were book-keeper at Christie's?"
"Ah, yes. No; that is done with. It was impossible to get along with that fellow; that came to an end very quickly of its own accord."
"Why so?"