"I have been in your house for a week, now, Professor Parkhurst, and I
have merely encountered you at meals."

"Often enough," said the Professor, making a sudden turn that almost
upset Jarvis. "I go fifty steps up, and fifty steps back," he explained,
and Jarvis stared at him open-mouthed.

"You count your steps?" he repeated.

"Certainly, no matter what I do, I count. When I eat, when I sleep,
walk, talk, think, I always count."

"How awful! A human metronome. I must make a note of that." And Jarvis
took out a notebook to make an entry.

"You have the notebook habit?" snorted the Professor.

"Yes, I can't afford to waste ideas, suggestions, thoughts."

"Bah! A most offensive habit."

"I gather, from your general attitude," Jarvis began again, "that you
dislike me."

"I neither like nor dislike you. I don't know you."

"You never will know me, at this rate."

"I am not sure that I care to."