"Now, Tom, none of yer gypsy tantrums! I knows all yer Romany gibberish, an' I ain't takin' any.

Ye've got a good 'art enough, so don't work yer dander up with this 'ere old chap what's a-trampin' it to try and find out all that's left o's fam'ly an' friends 'fore turnin' up 'is toes to the daisies.

'Is name is David, an' 'e's been kickt out o' office work through bein' too old.

That's _'is_ ticket!" Tom o' the Gleam listened to this explanation in silence, playing absently with the green tags of ribbon at his waistcoat.

Then slowly lifting his eyes he fixed them full on Helmsley, who, despite himself, felt an instant's confusion at the searching intensity of the man's bold bright gaze.
"Old and poor!" he ejaculated.