That was why I asked you those questions about Epping Forest.

You have rather puzzled me, I confess, though your information was so interesting.

But later on, I hope, we may have some more talk together, when our friend Dick isn't here.

I know he thinks me rather a grinder, and despises me for not being very deft with my hands: that's the way nowadays.

From what I have read of the nineteenth century literature (and I have read a good deal), it is clear to me that this is a kind of revenge for the stupidity of that day, which despised everybody who _could_ use his hands.