firesides. It was not so with Mr. Mannion. He was exactly the same man
at his own house that he was at Mr. Sherwin's.

There was no need for him to have told me that he was an epicure in
tea; the manner in which he made it would have betrayed that to
anybody. He put in nearly treble the quantity which would generally be
considered sufficient for two persons; and almost immediately after he
had filled the tea-pot with boiling water, began to pour from it into
the cups--thus preserving all the aroma and delicacy of flavour in the
herb, without the alloy of any of the coarser part of its strength.
When we had finished our first cups, there was no pouring of dregs
into a basin, or of fresh water on the leaves. A middle-aged female
servant, neat and quiet, came up and took away the tray, bringing it
to us again with the tea-pot and tea-cups clean and empty, to receive
a fresh infusion from fresh leaves. These were trifles to notice; but
I thought of other tradesmen's clerks who were drinking their
gin-and-water jovially, at home or at a tavern, and found Mr. Mannion
a more exasperating mystery to me than ever.

The conversation between us turned at first on trivial subjects, and
was but ill sustained on my part--there were peculiarities in my
present position which made me thoughtful. Once, our talk ceased
altogether; and, just at that moment, the storm began to rise to its
height. Hail mingled with the rain, and rattled heavily against the
window. The thunder, bursting louder and louder with each successive
peal, seemed to shake the house to its foundations. As I listened to
the fearful crashing and roaring that seemed to fill the whole
measureless void of upper air, and then looked round on the calm,
dead-calm face of the man beside me--without one human emotion of any
kind even faintly pictured on it--I felt strange, unutterable