"Any books I can show you?--any special book you're looking for?"
The voice was the voice of the tradesman, warning off the man unlikely
to buy--but it was the familiar voice of my friend, "the perfesser,"
just the same. I turned and smiled into his face, happy in greeting him,
losing the trepidation my rags gave me.
"Why, Johnnie Gregory!" he shook my hand warmly as if I were a prince. I
was enchanted.
"I want to exchange two books if I can--for others!"
"Come right into the back. Breasted, the boss, is out for the day....
I'm having my lunch sent in, won't you have some with me?"
He acted just as if he hadn't noticed my dilapidation.