"And you'll tell me, won't you?" Paul said eagerly.
"I'll let you know very first thing!"
"Would you like me to read some more of your interesting play?" he asked. "I can't quite make out what it's all about beginning in the miggle like this."
"I don't think I'd read it just now," said the man. "You see, I want to talk to you. I want to know all sorts of things."
"I came in on purpose to have a chat," Paul remarked genially. "Do you mind if I sit down? My feet do ache so—Lie down, my dear; the gentleman doesn't mind you."
The man pulled up a comfortable chair for Paul. Thor lay down at his feet, and then their host, in his chair by the desk, swung round and faced them.
"I suppose now," said Paul, "you haven't got a missus, have you?"
"What makes you think that?" asked the man.
"Well, you see, there's such a muddle of papers, isn't there? She'd never let you keep it like that. Mr. Mumford says his missus is always cleanin' and sortin' and putting things away. Not," he added truthfully, "that Mr. Mumford gets many letters—I've never seen any in his house."
"It's not always like this," pleaded the man. "Sometimes it's awfully tidy."