'Shake hands,' would be Toots's next advance.
Which Paul, of course, would immediately do.

Mr Toots generally said again, after a long interval of staring and hard breathing, 'How are you ?' To which Paul again replied, 'Quite well, Sir, thank you.' One evening Mr Toots was sitting at his desk, oppressed by correspondence, when a great purpose seemed to flash upon him.

He laid down his pen, and went off to seek Paul, whom he found at last, after a long search, looking through the window of his little bedroom.
'I say!' cried Toots, speaking the moment he entered the room, lest he should forget it; 'what do you think about ?' 'Oh! I think about a great many things,' replied Paul.
'Do you, though ?' said Toots, appearing to consider that fact in itself surprising.

'If you had to die,' said Paul, looking up into his face--Mr Toots started, and seemed much disturbed.
'Don't you think you would rather die on a moonlight night, when the sky was quite clear, and the wind blowing, as it did last night ?' Mr Toots said, looking doubtfully at Paul, and shaking his head, that he didn't know about that.
'Not blowing, at least,' said Paul, 'but sounding in the air like the sea sounds in the shells.

It was a beautiful night.