He, on his side, was also far more tolerant than in the days when he had growled at Osmond for a conceited young puppy.
One Sunday morning in early July, Waymark was sitting alone in his room, when he noticed that a cab stopped before the house.

A minute after, there was a knock at his door, and, to his great surprise, Mr.
Woodstock entered, bearing a huge volume in his arms.

Abraham deposited it on a chair, wiped his forehead, and looked round the room.
"You smoke poor tobacco," was his first remark, as he sniffed the air.
"Good tobacco happens to be expensive," was the reply.

"Will you sit down ?" "Yes, I will." The chair creaked under him.

"And so here you hang out, eh?
Only one room ?" "As you see." "Devilish unhealthy, I should think." "But economical." "Ugh!" The grunt meant nothing in particular.