direct.
"That would cut down the account nicely," said she, looking at him
pleasantly, but a shade too hard to imply a beautiful trust. She went on
much like the firm young lady enumerators who take the census: "By the
way--let me ask: Have you any regular business or occupation?"
"Not, I suppose, in the sense in which you mean the interrogation."
"Perhaps you have friends in the city, who--"
"Friends! Here! Good Lord--_no!_" said he, with exasperated vehemence.
"I gather," was surprised from her, "that you do not wish--"
"They are the last thing in the world that I desire. My experience in
that direction in New York quite sufficed me, I assure you. I came
here," said he, with rather too blunt an implication, "to be let alone."
"I was thinking of references, you know. You have friends in New York,
then?"
"Yes, I have two. But I doubt if you would regard them as serviceable
for references. The best of them is only a policeman; the other is a
yeggman by trade--his brother, by the way."
She was silent a moment, wondering if he were telling the truth, and
deciding what to say next. The young man used the silence to bolt his
coffee at a gulp and go hurriedly but deeply into the preserves.
"My aunt will be glad that you can make a remittance to-night. I will
take it to her for you with pleasure."
"Oh!-All right."
He put his hand into his outer breast-pocket, pulled out an envelope,
and absently pitched it across the table. She looked at it and saw that
it was postmarked the city and bore a typewritten address.
"Am I to open this?"
"Oh, as you like," said he, and, removing the spoon, turned a page.
The agent picked up the envelope with anticipations of helpful clues. It
was her business to find out everything that she could about Mr. Queed.
A determinedly moneyless, friendless, and vocationless young man could
not daily stretch his limbs under her aunt's table and retain the Third
Hall Back against more compensatory guests. But the letter proved a
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