Nevertheless, when the door opens, and the small squat figure of a very
old and dear friend advances towards him, his face lights instantly. With
tender reverence and affection the newcomer takes hold of his hand, lifts,
presses it, lays it back again. And when he has seated himself, the Shadow
speaks_.
CHAMBERLAIN. Well, Collings? Well?
JESSE COLLINGS. Well, my dear Chamberlain, how are you? I'm a little late,
I'm afraid.
CHAMBERLAIN. I hadn't noticed. Time doesn't matter to me now.
JESSE COLLINGS. No; but I like to be punctual. It's my nature.
CHAMBERLAIN. Habit...Habit and nature are different things, Collings. I've
been finding that out.
(_At this, for a diversion, Collings, readjusting his pince-nez, tilts
his head bird-like, and takes a genial look at his friend_)
JESSE COLLINGS. Joe, you are looking better to-day.
CHAMBERLAIN. Well, even looks are not to be despised, I suppose, when one
has nothing else left.
JESSE COLLINGS. Come, come!
CHAMBERLAIN. Yes?
JESSE COLLINGS. Nothing else left, indeed! Don't--don't be so _down_,
Chamberlain.
CHAMBERLAIN. Dear old friend!... Just now you called me "Joe." You don't
often do that. Why did you?
JESSE COLLINGS. A reversion to old habits, I suppose. One does as one gets
older.
CHAMBERLAIN. Yes.
JESSE COLLINGS (_genially making conversation, which he sees to be
advisable_). I was reading only the other day that, as we get on in
years and begin to forget other things, our childhood comes back to us.
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