t themselves in on his intelligence as if they
would make an eternal pressure there. It was as if the place had a moral
physiognomy of its own, and as if through countless details he absorbed
an instinct as to its daily life.

'I suppose,' said Paul, 'you varnish that work of art pretty often?'

'As often as I can,' Mr. Warr responded. 'But the varnish is costly,
my credit is nowhere worth a tinker's damn, and I live in a chronic
impecuniosity.'

He varnished the work of art with a genuine relish, and, the process
being over, he and Paul returned to the office, where signs of life were
beginning to show themselves. The flare of some thirty or forty lighted
gas-brackets made an inroad on the fog, and knots of men were laughing
and talking. It very soon became clear to Paul's intelligence that the
daily work and conversation of his new companions were not in any marked
degree ruled or moulded by the influence of that religious literature
with which they helped to furnish the world. They were neither better
nor worse than the average British workman; but they certainly cursed
a good deal, and a stiffish breeze of indecency blew through all their
speech.

In ten minutes every man was at his case, and silence reigned. The
overseer--a dyspeptic, long-haired man, who looked like a dejected
tragedian--interviewed the new-comer, supplied him with a certain amount
of 'copy,' and left him to his devices. Mr. Warr worked by his side.
That gentleman without the silk-hat came out bald, and without the
fur-trimmed overcoat came out shabby, in a very threadbare old black
rock. He wore a portentous pair of cuffs to match the antiquated
collar, and these being slipped off and the coat-sleeves turned up
for convenience in working, Paul wondered if any shirt or other
under-garment kept them company. Any doubt he may have had on that point
was dissipated early in the day, for Mr. Warr chancing to stoop with
his head towards Paul, gave the young man a clear view of his bare
back, between which and the world at large there was nothing but the
threadbare coat.

About half-past twelve o'clock the small boy whom Paul had encountered
on his arrival began to move about from man to man with a strip of
paper. Each man looked at the paper and spoke a single word. Then the
boy invariably pronounced a word which sounded like 'vedge,' and the
man either shook his head or nodded. Paul wondered what this might
mean, until his turn came, when he foun