My
pity for the creature, his admiration for myself, his
pleasure in my society, which was clearly unassumed,
were the bonds with which I was fettered; perhaps I
should add, in honesty, my own ill-regulated interest
in the phases of life and human character. The fact is
(at least) that we spent hours together daily, and that
I was nearly as much on the forward deck as in the
saloon. Yet all the while I could never forget he was
a shabby trickster, embarked that very moment in a
dirty enterprise. I used to tell myself at first that
our acquaintance was a stroke of art, and that I was
somehow fortifying Carthew. I told myself, I say; but
I was no such fool as to believe it, even then. In
these circumstances I displayed the two chief qualities
of my character on the largest scale--my helplessness
and my instinctive love of procrastination--and fell
upon a course of action so ridiculous that I blush when
I recall it.
We reached Liverpool one forenoon, the rain falling
thickly and insidiously on the filthy town. I had no
plans, beyond a sensible unwillingness to let my rascal
escape; and I ended by going to the same inn with him,
dining with him, walking with him in the wet streets,
and hearing with him in a penny gaff that venerable
piece, THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN.
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