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hardly ever did move. Nobody had ever seen him anywhere else but on his high stool; he was always at his place before any of the junior clerks came in, he was still there when they went off. Life for him had only one aim—that of making endless additions.
"Feeling rather sick, I sent the office boy for a bottle of dry sherry and a box of vanilla-wafers. When the lad returned I told him he could go.
"I poured out a glass of wine for the bookkeeper, and handed him the box of biscuits. The old man took up the glass with his parchment-coloured hand, and held it up to the light as if he were calculating its chemical properties or its specific weight. Then he sipped it slowly with evident gusto.
"As for the wafer he looked at it carefully, just as if it had been a draft he was going to register.
"Then we both set to work again, and at about ten, all the letters and dispatches having been answered, I heaved a deep sigh of relief.
"'If my manager comes to-morrow, as he said he would, he'll be satisfied with me.'
