He a secretary of a company with L150 a year! It was nearly intoxicating.
And for the post spontaneously offered to him in the almost flattering way it had been--this was more gratifying still.

In his wildest dreams just now he never pictured himself sitting down as secretary to the Select Agency Corporation to lunch with one of its leading directors! Mr Medlock said no more about "business", but made himself generally agreeable, asking Reginald about his father and the old days, inquiring as to his mother and brother, and all about his friends and acquaintances in London.
Reginald felt he could talk freely to this friend, and he did so.

He confided to him all about Mr Durfy's tyranny, about his brother's work at the _Rocket_, and even went so far as to drop out a hint in young Gedge's favour.

He told him all about Wilderham and his schoolfellows there, about the books he liked, about the way he spent his evenings, about Dull Street--in fact, he felt as if he had known Mr Medlock for years and could talk to him accordingly.
"I declare," said that gentleman, pulling out his watch, after this pleasant talk had been going on a long time, "it's five minutes past two.

I'm afraid you'll be late." Reginald started up.
"So I shall, I'd no idea it was so late.