“Whom do you want?”
“I can scarcely give the name, but if you will permit me to explain, I think I could make it clear to you, sir.”
“Don’t chatter,” interrupted the man curtly. “And don’t call me sir. You’re as good as I am.”
“I don’t know,” retorted the youth, with spirit, “why you should think it necessary to mention the fact!”
“Because you had apparently forgotten it.”
“Don’t go for a moment. I only wish to ask one question. Where are the poor?”
“Spell it!”
The young man complied; the other shook his head. They took to the edge of the broad pavement; the centre appeared to be rigidly reserved for those who were youthful and walked with a certain briskness, whilst either side was used by elderly folk, and by those whose movements were deliberate. The young man gave further details.
“I see what you mean now,” said the other. “There was a story about a man like yourself in one of the journals the other day. He, too, had been away in a distant colony for his health.”
“One of the humorous journals?”