He ate rapidly and silently, and at the conclusion of
his meal, put on his hat, and wished his amiable spouse an abrupt good
morning.
After leaving his house, he did not take the usual course to his office,
but turned his steps toward the lower part of the city. Hastening onward,
he soon left the improved parts of it in his rear, and entered upon a
shabby district.
The morning was very chilly, and as it was yet quite early, but few people
were stirring: they were labourers hurrying to their work, milkmen, and
trundlers of breadcarts.
At length he stopped at the door of a tavern, over which was a large sign,
bearing the name of Whitticar. On entering, he found two or three
forlorn-looking wretches clustering round the stove, endeavouring to
receive some warmth upon their half-clothed bodies,--their red and pimpled
noses being the only parts about them that did not look cold. They stared
wonderingly at Mr. Stevens as he entered; for a person so respectable as
himself in appearance was but seldom seen in that house.
The boy who attended the bar inquired from behind the counter what he would
take.
"Mr. Whitticar, if you please," blandly replied Mr. Stevens.
Hearing this, the boy bolted from the shop, and quite alarmed the family,
by stating that there was a man in the shop, who said he wanted to take Mr.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256