"Dreadful grind, isn't it?
But, somehow, it gets hold of you; there's a kind of fascination in literature." He spoke the magic word with the air of quite an old, old man of letters.

"I ought to have been a grocer.

My father's got a shop in Middleswick; he calls it The Emporium.

I think that's why I couldn't stick it.

Pity, isn't it?
for it's a rattling good business.