He didn't quite know what he had expected for his return not certainly serenades and deputations; but without Mrs. Ash his mail would have quite lacked geniality, and it was as if Phil Blood-good had gone off not only with so large a slice of his small peculium, but with all the broken bits of the past, the loose ends of old relationships, that he had supposed he might pick up again.
He had rummaged forth on the Thursday night half a dozen old photographs stuck into a leather frame, a small show-case that formed part of his usual equipage of travel he mostly set it up on a table when he stayed anywhere long enough; and in one of the neat gilt-edged squares of this convenient portable array, as familiar as his shaving-glass or the hair-brushes, of backs and monograms now so beautifully toned and wasted, long ago given him by his mother, Phil Blood-good handsomely faced him.
Poor Blood-good didn't have a show, as they might have said, didn't get through at any point; the crowd was so new that there either having been no hue and cry for him, or having been too many others, for other absconders, in the intervals they had never so much as heard of him and would have no more of Mrs.
"I know now why you came back did Lottie mention how I had wondered? But sit down, sit down only let me, nervous beast as I am, take it standing! and believe me when I tell you that I've now ceased to wonder. My dear chap, I have it! It can't but have been for poor Phil Blood-good. He sticks out of you, the brute as how, with what he has done to you, shouldn't he?