I did not know him.

Time and again, as I drearily waited, I was on the verge of giving him to the driver.

Once, when two little girls--evidently the wharfinger's daughters--went by, my hand reached out to the door to open it so that I might call to them and present them with the puling little wretch.
A farewell surprise package from Galbraith, he had arrived at the hotel the night before, by express from New York.

It was Galbraith's way.

Yet he might so easily have been decently like other folk and sent fruit.