Then he took out a blue jacket which I used to cross the Atlantic.
“HAVE YOU WORN THIS?”
“Have you worn this?”
“Yes, for the last two years.”
“Is that all?” he said, with a low sardonic grin.
My trunk was the only one he had to examine, as I was the only passenger in the parlor car; and I saw that he meant to annoy me, which, I imagined, he could do with perfect impunity.
The best thing, in fact, the only thing to do was to take the misadventure good-humoredly.
He took out my linen and examined it in detail.
“Have these shirts all been worn?”