"Yes, I have been there a little; not much. I saw it was no use just yet, and that isn't a kind of occupation I delight in." The young man's face reddened with the bare memory of his vexation. "I hate that sort of thing."
"To go where you know people don't want to see you? Yes, it tries young and sensitive people a good deal. They've put you off?"
"As I told you, I have seen nobody yet. But I mean to persevere. They shall find I am not a man to be got rid of in that way."
Mr. Money made no observation on this, but went to a drawer in his desk and took out a little book with pages alphabetically arranged.
"I have been making inquiries about you," he said, "of various people who know all about the colonies. Would you like to hear a summary description of your personal character? Don't be offended—this is a way I have; the moment a person interests me and seems worth thinking about, I enter him in my little book here, and sum up his character from my own observation and from what people tell me. Shall I read it for you? I wouldn't, you may be sure, if I thought you were anything of a fool."
This compliment, of course, conquered Heron, who was otherwise a good deal puzzled. But there was something in Mr. Money's manner with those in whom he took any interest, that prevented their feeling hurt by his occasional bluntness.
"I don't know myself," Heron said.
"Of course you don't. What busy man, who has to know other people, could have time to study himself? That work might do for philosophers. I may teach you something now, and save you the trouble."
"I suppose I ought to make my own acquaintance," said Heron resignedly, while much preferring to talk of his grievance.
"Very good. Now listen.