"Not hexactly, sir. I was hofficially dead, sir. Ought to 'ave been at
the bottom, sir. O yes, sir. An' when I comes along an' declares myself,
they said I was a himposter--himposin' on honest people, sir--mikin' a
'ero o' myself, sir, as bein' the only man to escipe, sir. An' so I
comes aw'y--in a 'urry, sir. But if I was married, sir, my widow could
'ave 'ad 'er pension, sir. Yes, sir, 'er pension."

"That's a queer thing."

"Do you think so, sir?"

The head clerk unexpectedly bounced up and down in his chair. "See here,
don't imagine you can make fun of me, because you can't."

"Now don't get grouchy. When you pull out a cigar and start to light it,
don't blame a man looking on if he thinks you don't object to smoking.
Anyhow, after my navy experience I came back home and landed on an East
River tug. Said I struck the busy season. Must have struck a busy
concern, too. From daylight to ten, eleven at night--once in a while a
night lapping over. Nothing doing but work. I don't mind work, but this
indulging a lawless passion for it--not for mine. I've had three months
of that, and I think I'm due for a change. And don't you think that's
enough autobiography to qualify me for pump-man on an oil-tanker?"

The head clerk yawned prodigiously, and hummed, and whistled, looked out
of the window, and by and by found time to say, "you can leave your
name. And sometime possibly"--and just then the buzzer clicked, and the
applicant saw him disappear into the private office.