"I'm just travelling wi' him to London."
"And what are you going to do in London?"
"I'll see when I get there," said Paul.
"So you're out for adventure?"
"Ay," said the boy, a gleam of the Vision dancing before his eyes. "That's it. I'm going on an adventure."
"There, keep like that," cried the artist. "Don't stir. I do believe I'm getting you. Holy Moses, it will be great! If only I could catch the expression! There's nothing like adventure, is there? The glorious uncertainty of it! To wake up in the morning and know that the unexpected is bound to happen during the day. Exciting, isn't it?"
"Ay," said Paul, his face aglow.
The young man worked tense and quick at the luminous eyes. He broke a long silence by asking, "What's your name?"
"Paul Kegworthy."
"Paul? That's odd." In the sphere of life to which the ragged urchin belonged Toms and Bills and Jims were as thick as blackberries, but Pauls were rare.