Denton realised that there must exist motives beyond a mere impulse to abominable proceedings in the man. He meditated, and swallowed an unworthy pride. "I did not mean to be offensive to you," he said, "in refusing that bit of bread." "Meant it friendly," said the swart man, recalling the scene; "but--in front of that blarsted Whitey and his snigger--Well--I _'ad_ to scrap." "Yes," said Denton with sudden fervour: "I was a fool." "Ah!" said the swart man, with great satisfaction. "_That's_ aw right. Shake!" And Denton shook. The moving platform was rushing by the establishment of a face moulder, and its lower front was a huge display of mirror, designed to stimulate the thirst for more symmetrical features. Denton caught the reflection of himself and his new friend, enormously twisted and broadened. His own face was puffed, one-sided, and blood-stained; a grin of idiotic and insincere amiability distorted its latitude. A wisp of hair occluded one eye. The trick of the mirror presented the swart man as a gross expansion of lip and nostril. They were linked by shaking hands. Then abruptly this vision passed--to return to memory in the anæmic meditations of a waking dawn. As he shook, the swart man made some muddled remark, to the effect that he had always known he could get on with a gentleman if one came his way. He prolonged the shaking until Denton, under the influence of the mirror, withdrew his hand. The swart man became pensive, spat impressively on the platform, and resumed his theme. "Whad I was going to say was this," he said; was gravelled, and shook his head at his foot. Denton became curious. "Go on," he said, attentive. The swart man took the plunge. He grasped Denton's arm, became intimate in his attitude. "'Scuse me," he said. "Fact is, you done know _'ow_ to scrap. Done know _'ow_ to. Why--you done know 'ow to _begin_. You'll get killed if you don't mind. 'Ouldin' your 'ands--_There!_" He reinforced his statement by objurgation, watching the effect of each oath with a wary eye. "F'r instance. You're tall. Long arms. You get a longer reach than any one in the brasted vault. Gobblimey, but I thought I'd got a Tough on. 'Stead of which ... 'Scuse me. I wouldn't have _'it_ you if I'd known. It's like fighting sacks. 'Tisn' right. Y'r arms seemed 'ung on 'ooks. Reg'lar--'ung on 'ooks. There!" Denton stared, and then surprised and hurt his battered chin by a sudden laugh. Bitter tears came into his eyes. "Go on," he said. The swart man reverted to his formula. He was good enough to say he liked the look of Denton, thought he had stood up "amazing plucky. On'y pluck ain't no good--ain't no brasted good--if you don't 'old your 'ands. "Whad I was going to say was this," he said. "Lemme show you 'ow to scrap. Jest lemme. You're ig'nant, you ain't no class; but you might be a very decent scrapper--very decent. Shown. That's what I meant to say." Denton hesitated. "But--" he said, "I can't give you anything--"