ext sentence was premeditated.
"Whad--I--was--going--to say--was this," said the swart man, and sought
through a silence for further words.

"Whad--I--was--going--to say--was this," he repeated.

Finally he abandoned that gambit. "_You're_ aw right," he cried, laying
a grimy hand on Denton's grimy sleeve. "_You're_ aw right. You're a
ge'man. Sorry--very sorry. Wanted to tell you that."

Denton realised that there must exist motives beyond a mere impulse to
abominable proceedings in the man. He meditated, and swallowed an
unworthy pride.

"I did not mean to be offensive to you," he said, "in refusing that bit
of bread."

"Meant it friendly," said the swart man, recalling the scene; "but--in
front of that blarsted Whitey and his snigger--Well--I _'ad_ to scrap."

"Yes," said Denton with sudden fervour: "I was a fool."

"Ah!" said the swart man, with great satisfaction. "_That's_ aw right.
Shake!"

And Denton shook.

The moving platform was rushing by the establishment of a face moulder,
and its lower front was a huge display of mirror, designed to stimulate
the thirst for more symmetrical features. Denton caught the reflection
of himself and his new friend, enormously twisted and broadened. His own
face was puffed, one-sided, and blood-stained; a grin of idiotic and
insincere amiability distorted its latitude. A wisp of hair occluded one
eye. The trick of the mirror presented the swart man as a gross
expansion of lip and nostril. They were linked by shaking hands. Then
abruptly this vision passed--to return to memory in the anaemic
meditations of a waking dawn.

As he shook, the swart man made some muddled remark, to the effect that
he had always known he could get on with a gentleman if one came his
way. He prolonged the shaking until Denton, under the influence of the
mirror, withdrew his hand. The swart man became pensive, spat
impressively on the platform, and resumed his theme.

"Whad I was going to say was this," he said; was gravelled, and shook
his head at his foot.

Denton became curious. "Go on," he said, attentive.

The swart man took the plunge. He grasped Denton's arm, became intimate
in his attitude. "'Scuse me," he said. "Fact is, you done know _'ow_ to
scrap. Done know _'ow_ to. Why--you done know 'ow to _begin_. You'll get
killed if you don't mind. 'Ouldin' your 'ands--_There!_"

He reinforced his statement by objurgation, watching the effect of each
oath with a wary eye.

"F'r instanc