“At any rate Corinna hasn’t put her foot down on me. I think,” said Martin, rubbing his thinly clad sides meditatively, “my journey with Corinna has not been without profit to myself. I’ve made a discovery.”
He paused.
“My dear young friend,” said Fortinbras, “let me hear it.”
“I’ve found out that I needn’t be trampled on unless I like.”
Fortinbras passed his hand over his broad forehead and his silver mane and regarded the young man acutely. Whatever possibilities he might have seen of a romantic attachment between the pair of derelicts no longer existed. Martin had taken cool measure of Corinna and was not the least in love with her. The Dealer in Happiness smiled in his benevolent way.
“Although in your present ruffled and unshorn state you’re not looking your best, you’re a different man from my client of two months ago.”
“Thanks to your advice,” said Martin, “my three weeks’ journey put me into gorgeous health and here I’ve been living in clover.”
“And the environment does not seem to be unfavourable to moral and intellectual development.”
“That’s Bigourdin and his friends,” cried Martin. “He is a splendid fellow, a liberal education.”
“He’s an apostle of sanity,” replied Fortinbras with an approving nod. “Meanwhile sanity would not recommend your standing about in this chilly air with nothing on. I will converse with you while you dress.”