“Good gracious! What is the matter with you?”
“I am wanting in backbone,” he explained, gloomily—“criminally deficient in backbone.”
“Why, John, you must be mad,” said the wife of his bosom. And, indeed, there was a seeming irrelevancy in his remarks, which favoured his helpmate’s theory. But John knew quite well what he was about.
“Tell Edward to fetch my coat and hat,” he said, having trifled with his breakfast instead of eating it like a Briton; “and lend me your scissors.”
The dutiful young woman handed her lord and master the scissors, with which he proceeded to cut out the Times review—the which, when carefully abstracted, he placed in his pocket-book. But before Edward came with his coat and hat, Mrs. White, with natural and justifiable curiosity asked,—
“Where are you going so early, John?”
“I am going,” said John, quoting from the article, “I am going among the men and women by whom I am surrounded. I am going to study human character from the life.”
Mrs. White shrugged her little shoulders, elevated her little eyebrows, kissed her husband, and when she heard the hall-door close behind him, she said very quietly, as though she were making an observation which did not affect her even remotely,—
“He doesn’t seem to study me very much.”
John White’s great crony was Anthony Lomax, of Paper Buildings. And John White took a ticket to the Temple Station, being determined to consult his old friend on this new revelation which the great Times newspaper had opened up to him. He was fortunate in finding Mr. Lomax at home, devouring a frugal meal of brandy and soda, preparatory to appearing before Vice-Chancellor Bacon in the celebrated case of Breeks v. Woolfer.