"You will excuse my preference for a certain indefiniteness," said Nicolovius, with great sweetness. On this side, he had drifted accidentally into school-teaching, as a means of livelihood, and stuck at it, in New York, St. Paul, and, for many years, in Chicago. The need of a warmer climate for his health's sake, he said, had driven him South, and some three years before an appointment at Milner's Collegiate School had brought him to the city which he and the young man now alike called their own. Queed, still sacking the shelves for another find, asked if he had never revisited Ireland. "Ah, no," said Nicolovius, "there was no gracious pardon for my little peccadillo, no statute of limitations to run after me and pat me on the head. I love England best with the sea between us. You may fancy that a refugee Irishman has no fondness for reading history." He flicked the fire-ash from his cigar and looked at Queed. All the time he talked he had been watching the young man, studying him, conning him over.... "My life ended when I was scarcely older than you. I have been dead while I was alive.... God pity you, young man, if you ever taste the bitter misery of that!" Queed turned around surprised at the sudden fierceness of the other's tone. Nicolovius instantly sprang up and went over to poke the fire; he came back directly, smiling easily and pulling at his long cigar. "Ah, well! Forgive the saddening reminiscences of an old man--not a common weakness with me, I assure you. May I say, Mr. Queed, how much your intellect, your culture, your admirable--ah--poise--amazing they seem to me in so young a man--have appealed to me among a population of Brookes, Bylashes, and Klinkers? You are the first man in many a day that has inspired me with an impulse toward friendship and confidence. It would be a real kindness if you'd come in sometimes of an evening." At the word "friendship" the young man flinched uncontrollably. Was the whole diabolical world in league to spring out and make friends with him? "Unfortunately," he said, with his iciest bow, "my time is entirely engrossed by my work." But as his eye went round the pretty, dim-lit room, he could not help contrasting it with the bleak Scriptorium above, and he added with a change of tone and a sigh:-- "You appear wonderfully comfortable here." Nicolovius shrugged. "So-so," he said indifferently. "However, I shall make a move before long." "Indeed?" "I want more space and independence, more quiet--surcease from meeting fellow-boarders at every step. I plan to move into an apartment, or perhaps a modest little house, if I can manage it. For I am not rich, unhappily, though I believe the boarders think I am, because I make Emma a present of a dollar each year at the anniversary of the birth of our Lord." Queed ignored his little pleasantry. He was struck with the fact that Nicolovius had described exactly the sort of living arrangement that he himself most earnestly desired.