Mr. Sparkes came. He was in very low spirits, for during the past
week Chaffey's had disgraced itself (if Chaffey's _could_ now be
disgraced) by supplying a supper at eighteen-pence per head,
exclusive of liquors, to certain provincial representatives of the
Rag, Bone, and Bottle Dealers' Alliance in town for the purpose of
attending a public meeting. He called it 'art-breaking, he did. The
long and short of it was, he must prepare himself--and
Chaffey's--for the inevitable farewell. Why, it wasn't as if they
had supplied the rag-tags with a _good_ supper. You should have seen
the stuff put before them; every blessed dish a hash-up of leavings
and broken meats. No man with a vestige of self-respect could
continue to wait at such entertainments. And this amid the gilding
and the plush and the marble-topped tables, which sickened one with
their surface imitation of real rest'rants.
"Wouldn't you like to retire into private life, Ebenezer?" asked his
hostess. "I'm sure you _could_, couldn't you?"
"Well, Louisa," he replied with hesitation, "if it comes to that, I
_could_.
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