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Bartleby, the Scrivener - A Story of Wall-Street by Herman Melville
page 41 of 52 (78%)
chambers too far from the City Hall; the air is unwholesome. In a word,
I propose to remove my offices next week, and shall no longer require
your services. I tell you this now, in order that you may seek another
place."

He made no reply, and nothing more was said.

On the appointed day I engaged carts and men, proceeded to my chambers,
and having but little furniture, every thing was removed in a few hours.
Throughout, the scrivener remained standing behind the screen, which I
directed to be removed the last thing. It was withdrawn; and being
folded up like a huge folio, left him the motionless occupant of a naked
room. I stood in the entry watching him a moment, while something from
within me upbraided me.

I re-entered, with my hand in my pocket--and--and my heart in my mouth.

"Good-bye, Bartleby; I am going--good-bye, and God some way bless you;
and take that," slipping something in his hand. But it dropped upon the
floor, and then,--strange to say--I tore myself from him whom I had so
longed to be rid of.

Established in my new quarters, for a day or two I kept the door locked,
and started at every footfall in the passages. When I returned to my
rooms after any little absence, I would pause at the threshold for an
instant, and attentively listen, ere applying my key. But these fears
were needless. Bartleby never came nigh me.

I thought all was going well, when a perturbed looking stranger visited
me, inquiring whether I was the person who had recently occupied rooms
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