He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. \"No, not really. This is my friend, Mr. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends.
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