Mortimer shakes his head positive. "It's the disgusting crowd one has
to mingle with," says he. "Such a cheap lot of--of roughnecks!"

"Huh!" says I. "Lots of 'em are pullin' down more'n you or me. Some
of 'em are almost human too."

"I don't care," says he. "I dislike to mix with them. It's bad enough
at the boarding house."

"None of the aristocracy there, either?" says I.

"They're freaks, all of them," says he. "What do you think--one fellow
wears an outing shirt in to dinner! Then there's an old person with
gray whiskers who--well, I can't bear to watch him. The others are
almost as bad."

"When you get to know the bunch you won't mind," says I.

"But I don't care to know them," says Mortimer. "I haven't spoken to a
soul, and don't intend to. They're not my kind, you see."

"Are you boastin', or complainin'?" says I. "Anyway, you're in for a
lonesome time. What do you do evenin's?"

"Walk around until I'm tired, that's all," says he.

"That's excitin'--I don't think," says I.

Next he branches off on Miller, and starts tellin' me what a deep and