“Lord bless my soul,” cried Mr. Grewgious, putting the lamp upon it, and taking his seat opposite Rosa; “what a new sensation for a poor old Angular bachelor, to be sure!”
Rosa’s expressive little eyebrows asked him what he meant?
“The sensation of having a sweet young presence in the place, that whitewashes it, paints it, papers it, decorates it with gilding, and makes it Glorious!” said Mr. Grewgious. “Ah me! Ah me!”
As there was something mournful in his sigh, Rosa, in touching him with her teacup, ventured to touch him with her small hand too.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Mr. Grewgious. “Ahem! Let’s talk!”
“Do you always live here, sir?” asked Rosa.
“Yes, my dear.”
“And always alone?”
“Always alone; except that I have daily company in a gentleman by the name of Bazzard, my clerk.”
“ He doesn’t live here?”
“No, he goes his way, after office hours. In fact, he is off duty here, altogether, just at present; and a firm downstairs, with which I have business relations, lend me a substitute. But it would be extremely difficult to replace Mr. Bazzard.”
“He must be very fond of you,” said Rosa.