festivities--an attorney's office would be, of all social marts, the
most loathsome. But we might say the same of the gambling-hell, of the
Law Court, of the lottery office, of the brothel.

But why? In these places, perhaps, the drama being played in a man's
soul makes him indifferent to accessories, which would also account
for the single-mindedness of great thinkers and men of great
ambitions.

"Where is my penknife?"

"I am eating my breakfast."

"You go and be hanged! here is a blot on the copy."

"Silence, gentlemen!"

These various exclamations were uttered simultaneously at the moment
when the old client shut the door with the sort of humility which
disfigures the movements of a man down on his luck. The stranger tried
to smile, but the muscles of his face relaxed as he vainly looked for
some symptoms of amenity on the inexorably indifferent faces of the
six clerks. Accustomed, no doubt, to gauge men, he very politely
addressed the gutter-jumper, hoping to get a civil answer from this
boy of all work.

"Monsieur, is your master at home?"

The pert messenger made no reply, but patted his ear with the fingers
of his left hand, as much as to say, "I am deaf."