"What sort of a gent was he, sir?" questioned the man.
"A tall thin gentleman, very shabbily dressed--might be mistaken for a
tramp."
"Ah, there's a good many of that sort living in this town," replied the
man. "I'm afraid you'll have some difficulty in finding him."
Thus for a second time had I heard his footsteps die away, knowing I
should never listen for their drawing near again.
I wondered as I walked on--I have wondered before and since--whether Art,
even with a capital A, is quite worth all the suffering that is inflicted
in her behalf--whether she and we are better for all the scorning and the
sneering, all the envying and the hating, that is done in her name.
Jephson arrived about nine o'clock in the ferry-boat. We were made
acquainted with this fact by having our heads bumped against the sides of
the saloon.
Somebody or other always had their head bumped whenever the ferry-boat
arrived. It was a heavy and cumbersome machine, and the ferry-boy was
not a good punter. He admitted this frankly, which was creditable of
him. But he made no attempt to improve himself; that is, where he was
wrong. His method was to arrange the punt before starting in a line with
the point towards which he wished to proceed, and then to push hard,
without ever looking behind him, until something suddenly stopped him.
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