Instead of thanking me and using his liberty, he hesitated, and looked thoroughly ill at ease.
"What's the matter now ?" I asked.
"I'm afraid you don't know, sir, who it is you are so kind to.

I've been something else in my time, besides a nurseryman." "What have you been ?" "A prize-fighter." If he expected me to exhibit indignation or contempt, he was disappointed.

My ignorance treated him as civilly as ever.
"What is a prize-fighter ?" I inquired.
The unfortunate pugilist looked at me in speechless bewilderment.

I told him that I had been brought up among foreigners, and that I had never even seen an English newspaper for the last ten years.

This explanation seemed to encourage the man of few words: it set him talking freely at last.