And a month arter that, I shall
come into my chambers at the Halbany, fling Voltaire and Parini into the
fire, shy me 'at at the bust of good old 'Omer, slip on my blue suit
agen, and back to the Mile End Road.'
"'How do you explain your absence to both parties?' I asked.
"'Oh, that's simple enough,' he replied. 'I just tells my 'ousekeeper at
the Halbany as I'm goin' on the Continong; and my mates 'ere thinks I'm a
traveller.'
"'Nobody misses me much,' he added, pathetically; 'I hain't a
partic'larly fetchin' sort o' bloke, either of me. I'm sich an out-and-
outer. When I'm an 'Arry, I'm too much of an 'Arry, and when I'm a prig,
I'm a reg'lar fust prize prig. Seems to me as if I was two ends of a man
without any middle. If I could only mix myself up a bit more, I'd be all
right.'
"He sniffed once or twice, and then he laughed. 'Ah, well,' he said,
casting aside his momentary gloom; 'it's all a game, and wot's the odds
so long as yer 'appy. 'Ave a wet?'
"I declined the wet, and left him playing sentimental airs to himself
upon the concertina.
"One afternoon, about a month later, the servant came to me with a card
on which was engraved the name of 'Mr. Joseph Smythe.' I requested her
to show him up. He entered with his usual air of languid
superciliousness, and seated himself in a graceful attitude upon the
sofa.
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