I could relate an
anecdote in point, but that it would be premature.'
'If Miss Rosa will allow me, then? Let the gentleman come in,'
said Mr. Crisparkle.
The gentleman came in; apologised, with a frank but modest grace,
for not finding Mr. Crisparkle alone; turned to Mr. Crisparkle, and
smilingly asked the unexpected question: 'Who am I?'
'You are the gentleman I saw smoking under the trees in Staple Inn,
a few minutes ago.'
'True. There I saw you. Who else am I?'
Mr. Crisparkle concentrated his attention on a handsome face, much
sunburnt; and the ghost of some departed boy seemed to rise,
gradually and dimly, in the room.
The gentleman saw a struggling recollection lighten up the Minor
Canon's features, and smiling again, said: 'What will you have for
breakfast this morning? You are out of jam.'
'Wait a moment!' cried Mr. Crisparkle, raising his right hand.
'Give me another instant! Tartar!'
The two shook hands with the greatest heartiness, and then went the
wonderful length--for Englishmen--of laying their hands each on the
other's shoulders, and looking joyfully each into the other's face.
'My old fag!' said Mr. Crisparkle.
'My old master!' said Mr. Tartar.
'You saved me from drowning!' said Mr. Crisparkle.
'After which you took to swimming, you know!' said Mr. Tartar.
'God bless my soul!' said Mr. Crisparkle.
'Amen!' said Mr.
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