"What at?"

"Dunno," admitted Mary Jane. But still she went on smiling.

"What's he like then?" demanded Mrs. Pennycherry.

"'E ain't the usual sort," was Mary Jane's opinion.

"Thank God for that," ejaculated Mrs. Pennycherry piously.

"Says 'e's been recommended, by a friend."

"By whom?"

"By a friend. 'E didn't say no name." Mrs. Pennycherry pondered.
"He's not the funny sort, is he?"

Not that sort at all. Mary Jane was sure of it.

Mrs. Pennycherry ascended the stairs still pondering. As she entered
the room the stranger rose and bowed. Nothing could have been simpler
than the stranger's bow, yet there came with it to Mrs. Pennycherry a
rush of old sensations long forgotten. For one brief moment Mrs.
Pennycherry saw herself an amiable well-bred lady, widow of a
solicitor: a visitor had called to see her. It was but a momentary
fancy. The next instant Reality reasserted itself. Mrs. Pennycherry,
a lodging-house keeper, existing precariously upon a daily round of
petty meannesses, was prepared for contest with a possible new
boarder, who fortunately looked an inexperienced young gentleman.