He whistled cheerfully, and
his spirits rose as various chimerical plans of making money occurred to
him. By the time he reached the High Street, the shops of which were all
closed for the night, he was earning five hundred a year and spending a
thousand. He turned the handle of the door and, walking in, discovered
Miss Kybird entertaining company in the person of Mr. Edward Silk.
"Halloa," he said, airily, as he took a seat. "Don't mind me, young
people. Go on just as you would if I were not here."
Mr. Edward Silk grumbled something under his breath; Miss Kybird, turning
to the intruder with a smile of welcome, remarked that she had just
thought of going to sleep.
"Going to sleep?" repeated Mr. Silk, thunder-struck.
"Yes," said Miss Kybird, yawning.
Mr. Silk gazed at her, open-mouthed. "What, with me 'ere?" he inquired,
in trembling tones.
"You're not very lively company," said Miss Kybird, bending over her
sewing. "I don't think you've spoken a word for the last quarter of an
hour, and before that you were talking of death-warnings. Made my flesh
creep, you did."
"Shame!" said Mr. Nugent.
"You didn't say anything to me about your flesh creeping," muttered Mr.
Silk.
"You ought to have seen it creep," interposed Mr. Nugent, severely.
"I'm not talking to you," said Mr.
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