feel sorry for him. He was not at all a picturesque personage; he looked like a jaded, faded man of business. But after a little he came into the garden and began to stroll about; and then his restless, unoccupied carriage, and the vague, unacquainted manner in which his eyes wandered over the place seemed to make it proper that, as an older resident, I should exercise a certain hospitality. I said something to him, and he came and sat down beside me on my bench, clasping one of his long knees in his hands.
"When is it this big breakfast of theirs comes off?" he inquired. "That's what I call it—the little breakfast and the big breakfast. I never thought I should live to see the time when I should care to eat two breakfasts. But a man's glad to do anything, over here."
"For myself," I observed, "I find plenty to do."
He turned his head and glanced at me with a dry, deliberate, kind-looking eye. "You're getting used to the life, are you?"
"I like the life very much," I answered, laughing.
"How long have you tried it?"
"Do you mean in this place?"
