“As an instance of that you can take the friendship between Straight and Christian. From the point of view of the outside world they’re of types so diverse that you’d say that the difference precluded friendship of any kind. You know what Christian is; but the colonel is hardly what you’d call a man of education. Without being illiterate, he makes elementary grammatical mistakes, and unusual ideas floor him. But to say that he and Christian are like brothers hardly expresses it.” I pondered on this as the meeting, with Christian in the chair, came to order and the routine of business began. When it grew uninteresting to people with no share in the management of the club I got an opportunity to whisper, “You settled in New York?” “I’m with Sterling Barry; the junior of the four partners.” The reply seemed to strip from me the few rags of respectability with which I had been trying to cover myself up. Had he gone on to say, “And I saw you break into his house and steal his daughter’s trinkets,” I should scarcely have felt myself more pitilessly exposed. It was perhaps a proof of what the club had done for me that I no longer regarded this crime with the same sang-froid as when I entered. Even on the morning of my first talk with Andrew Christian I could have confessed it more or less as I should have owned to a solecism in etiquette. During the intervening ten days, however, I had so far reverted to my former better self that the knowledge that I was the man who had crept into a house and begun to rob it filled me with dismay. I had to pretend that I didn’t want to interrupt the conducting of business to conceal the fact that I was unable to reply. “You’ve worked in New York, too?” he began again, when there was a chance of speaking. I had by this time so far recovered myself as to be able to tell him the names of my various employers. I didn’t add that they had fired me one after another because of my drinking-spells, since I supposed he would take that for granted. “Ever thought of Barry’s?” “I brought a letter of introduction to him from McArdle, of Montreal; but I never presented it.” “Pity.” “Yes, perhaps it was. But you see I didn’t like McArdle’s work, though I studied under him. As I was afraid of getting into the same old rut, I went to Pritchard.” “What do you think of Barry’s things now?” “Oh, I like them—though they’re not so severe as I should go in for myself. The modern French is a little too florid, and he goes them one better.” “Just my feeling. I should like you to see a bit of work I’ve been doing on my own; rather a big order—for me, that is—in which I’ve had to be as American as the deuce, and yet keep to the best lines.” “Like to,” I managed to whisper back as we heard Christian announce that two new men were now to be admitted to the club.