In silence we shuffled along a few paces, though not exactly side by side. Lovey was just sufficiently behind me to be able to talk confidentially into my ear. My own manner was probably that of a man anxious to throw off a dogging inferior. Even among us there are social degrees. “Yer’ll be sorry,” Lovey warned me, reproachfully. “Very well, then,” I jerked back at him over my shoulder; “I shall be sorry.” “If I didn’t know it was a good thing I wouldn’t ’a’ wanted to take ye in on it—not you, I wouldn’t; and dead easy.” “I don’t care for it.” “Ye’re only a beginner—” “I’m not even that.” “No, ye’re not even that; and this’d larn ye. Just two old ladies—lots of money always in the ’ouse—no resistance—no weepons nor nothink o’ that kind; and me knowin’ every hinch of the ground through workin’ for ’em two years ago—” “And suppose they recognized you?” “That’s it. That’s why I must have a pal. If they’d git a look at any one it’d have to be at you. But you don’t need to be afraid, never pinched before nor nothink. Once yer picter’s in the rogues’ they’ll run ye in if ye so much as blow yer nose. You’d just get by as an unknown man.” “And if I didn’t get by?” “Oh, but you would, sonny. Ye’re the kind. Just look at ye! Slim and easy-movin’ as a snake, y’are. Ye’d go through a man’s clothes while he’s got ’em on, and he wouldn’t notice ye no more’n a puff of wind. Look at yer ’and.” I held it up and looked at it. A year ago, a month ago, I should have studied it with remorse. Now I did it stupidly, without emotions or regrets. It was a long, slim hand, resembling the rest of my person. It was strong, however, with big, loosely articulated knuckles and muscular thumbs—again resembling the rest of my person. At the Beaux Arts, and in an occasional architect’s office, it had been spoken of as a “drawing” hand; and Lovey was now pointing out its advantages for other purposes. I laughed to myself. “Ye’re too tall,” Lovey went on, in his appraisement. “That’s ag’in’ ye. Ye must be a good six foot. But lots o’ men are too tall. They gits over it by stoopin’ a bit; and when ye stoops it frightens people, especially women. They ain’t near as scared of a man that stands straight up as they’ll be of one that crouches and wiggles away. Kind o’ suggests evil to ’em, like, it does. And these two old ladies—” As we reached the corner of the Park I rounded slowly on my tempter. Not that he thought of his offer as temptation, any more than I did; it was rather on his part a touch of solicitude. He was doing his best for me, in return for what he was pleased to take as my kindness to him during the past ten days.