He was
now about a week returned from his eclipse, pervading
Sydney in hansom cabs and airing the first bloom of six
new suits of clothes; and yet the unaffected creature
hailed Carthew in his working jeans and with the
damning bundle on his shoulder, as he might have
claimed acquaintance with a duke.
"Come and have a drink?" was his cheerful cry.
"I'm just going to have lunch at the Paris House,"
returned Carthew. "It's a long time since I have had a
decent meal."
"Splendid scheme!" said Hadden. "I've only had
breakfast half an hour ago; but we'll have a private
room, and I'll manage to pick something. It'll brace
me up. I was on an awful tear last night, and I've met
no end of fellows this morning." To meet a fellow, and
to stand and share a drink, were with Tom synonymous
terms.
They were soon at table in the corner room up-stairs,
and paying due attention to the best fare in Sydney.
The odd similarity of their positions drew them
together, and they began soon to exchange confidences.
Carthew related his privations in the Domain, and his
toils as a navvy; Hadden gave his experience as an
amateur copra merchant in the South Seas, and drew a
humorous picture of life in a coral island.
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