He went out at once to the post.
Two days later he received a reply, somewhat longer than his own
epistle. The writer was clearly keeping himself in a tentative
attitude. Still, he wrote something about his own position and his
needs. He was a teacher in a school in South London, living in
lodgings, with his evenings mostly unoccupied. His habits, he
declared, were Bohemian. Suppose, by way of testing each other's
dispositions, they were to interchange views on some book with which
both were likely to be acquainted: say, Keats's poems? In
conclusion, the "O. W." of the advertisement signed himself Osmond
Waymark.
The result was that, a week after, Casti received an invitation to
call on Waymark, at the latter's lodgings in Walcot Square,
Kennington. He arrived on a Saturday evening, just after eight
o'clock. The house he sought proved to be one of very modest
appearance; small, apparently not too clean, generally uninviting.
But a decent-looking woman opened the door, and said that Mr.
Waymark would be found in response to a knock at the first-floor
front. The visitor made his way up the dark, narrow stair-case, and
knocked as bidden. A firm voice summoned him to enter.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94