As he made his way to the door three people stopped him,
and he answered them heartily enough, but with an air of hurry which
he would not have dreamed of showing to people of his own class.
One was a little schoolmistress who told him with a sort of feverish
meekness that she was troubled because an Ethical Lecturer
had said that Dickens was not really Progressive; but she
thought he was Progressive; and surely he was Progressive.
Of what being Progressive was she had no more notion than a whale.
The second person implored him for a subscription to some soup
kitchen or cheap meal; and his refined features sharpened;
for this, like literature, was a matter of principle with him.
"Quite the wrong method," he said, shaking his head and pushing past.
"Nothing any good but the Boyg system." The third stranger, who was male,
caught him on the step as he came out into the snow and starlight;
and asked him point blank for money. It was a part of Vernon-Smith's
principles that all such persons are prosperous impostors;
and like a true mystic he held to his principles in defiance of his
five senses, which told him that the night was freezing and the man
very thin and weak. "If you come to the Settlement between four
and five on Friday week," he said, "inquiries will be made."
The man stepped back into the snow with a not ungraceful gesture
as of apology; he had frosty silver hair, and his lean face,
though in shadow, seemed to wear something like a smile.
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