“I’ve no right to expect you to associate with me.”
“Why ever not?”
“I may as well tell you straight out. My father is a gamekeeper, and I am a gamekeeper’s son.”
Jim laughed pleasantly.
“Well, really your logic is perfect, but I can’t say as much for your sense. Bless you, man, aren’t we all of us lineal descendants of a gardener? Come along!”
“Please excuse me,” again faltered George; “you are very kind, but your friends may not thank you for—”
“My friends!—oh, yes!” blurted out Jim. “What on earth business have they to put their noses into my affairs. Like their impudence, all of them!”
Jim, you will see, was still a boy, though he had whiskers.
“Don’t blame them till they have offended. Anyhow, Mr Halliday, please excuse me. I want to read, and have made a rule never to go out.”
“Look here—what’s your name?” began Jim.