“No, thank you.”
“Do you mind my smoking?”
“I like it, doctor.”
“Very amiable on your part, I’m sure. What did you say your name was?”
“Mool.”
Benjulia looked at him suspiciously. Was he a physiologist, and a rival? “You’re not a doctor—are you?” he said.
“I am a lawyer.”
One of the few popular prejudices which Benjulia shared with his inferior fellow-creatures was the prejudice against lawyers. But for his angry recollection of the provocation successfully offered to him by his despicable brother, Mrs. Gallilee would never have found her way into his confidence. But for his hearty enjoyment of the mystification of the cook, Mr. Mool would have been requested to state the object of his visit in writing, and would have gone home again a baffled man. The doctor’s holiday amiability had reached its full development indeed, when he allowed a strange lawyer to sit and talk with him!
“Gentlemen of your profession,” he muttered, “never pay visits to people whom they don’t know, without having their own interests in view. Mr. Mool, you want something of me. What is it?”
Mr. Mool’s professional tact warned him to waste no time on prefatory phrases.