.. I informed him
proudly that I, too, had small feet....
"No, no, that is not the way to tie a tie ... let me show you ... you
must make both ends meet exactly ... there, that's it!" and he stepped
back, a look of satisfaction on his face ... he handed me a pearl stick
pin.
"This is a loan, not a gift," he murmured.
I returned a quick, angry look.
"I don't want your pin."
"No offence meant," he deprecated, "and you must wear it" (for I was
putting it aside) "Mr. Mackworth and I both want you to look your best
when you meet Miss Martin at dinner to-night".... I angrily almost
decided to take his pin with me when I left, just to fulfill his
pre-supposition.
"No, that's not the place to stick it ... let me show you ... not in the
body of the tie, but further down," and he deftly placed the pin in the
right spot. Then he stepped back like an artist who is proud of having
made a good job of bad materials....
"You look almost like a gentleman."
I was about to lick into Merton and lend him a sample of a few strong
objurgations of road and jail, when I saw myself in the glass. I stood
transfixed. He had not meant to be ironic. The transformation was
startling....
"If you would only keep yourself tidy all the time that way!... it's
easy."
"Not for me ... everything material that I touch seems to fall apart....
I lose my shirts inexplicably .
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