I'll send a messenger for 'em.' And
out he goes into the rain, which begins to come down cats and dogs the
moment he was in the street.
"I start to go out after him with his rain-coat, thinking he'd get wet
before he could find a cab, they being so scarce in this city, not like
London, where you simply 'ave to raise your 'and to 'ave a dozen
flocking round you, but he don't stop; he just goes walking off through
the rain and all, and I gets back into the house, not wishing to be
wetted myself on account of my rheumatism, which is always troublesome
in the damp weather. And I says to myself: ''Ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo, what's
all this?'
"See what I mean? I could tell as plain as if I'd been in the room with
them that they had been having words. And since that day 'e ain't been
near the 'ouse, and where he is now is more than I can tell you, Mr.
Dingle."
"Why, he's at the studio."
"At the studio, is he? Well, I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't better
off. 'E didn't strike me as a man what was used to the ways of society.
He's happier where he is, I expect."
And, having summed matters up in this philosophical manner, Keggs
drained his glass and cocked an expectant eye at Steve.
Steve obeyed the signal and ordered a further supply of the beer for
which Mr. Keggs had a plebian and unbutlerlike fondness.
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