of me, and cut inscriptions. He had blue spectacles on, and reminded me of
an acquaintance of mine, whom I had almost forgotten.

If I could only knock all shame on the head and apply to him. Tell him the
truth right out, that things were getting awfully tight with me now; ay,
that I found it hard enough to keep alive. I could give him my
shaving-tickets.

Zounds! my shaving-tickets; tickets for nearly a shilling. I search
nervously for this precious treasure. As I do not find them quickly
enough, I spring to my feet and search, in a sweat of fear. I discover
them at last in the bottom of my breast-pocket, together with other
papers--some clean, some written on--of no value.

I count these six tickets over many times, backwards and forwards; I had
not much use for them; it might pass for a whim--a notion of mine--that I
no longer cared to get shaved.

I was saved to the extent of sixpence--a white sixpence of Kongsberg
silver. The bank closed at six; I could watch for my man outside the
Opland Cafe between seven and eight.

I sat, and was for a long time pleased with this thought. Time went. The
wind blew lustily through the chestnut trees around me, and the day
declined.

After all, was it not rather petty to come slinking up with six
shaving-tickets to a young gentleman holding a good position in a bank?
Perhaps, he had already a book, maybe two, quite full of spick and span
tickets, a contrast to the crumpled ones I held.