"Will you have anything, sir?"
The curate looked at the thick cups upon the counter, turned his gaze for an instant upon a splendid pile of sausages, and shuddered a little ominously.
"I suppose the people here have excellent appetites," he reflected sagely. "I myself, unfortunately, have just lunched in Mount Street—but a little coffee—shall we not drink a little coffee?"
"Suppose I order you two doorsteps and a thick 'un?"
"My dear young fellow, what in heaven's name are 'two doorsteps and a thick 'un?'"
Alban smiled a little scornfully.
"Evidently you come from the West. I was only trying you. Shall we have two coffees—large? It isn't so bad as it looks by a long way."
The coffee was brought and set steaming before them. In an interval of silence Alban studied the curate's face as he would have studied a book in which he might read some account of his own fortunes. Why had this man stopped him in the street?
"Your first visit to Aldgate, sir?"