"Bartleby, this is Mr. Cutlets; you will find him very useful to you."
"Your sarvant, sir, your sarvant," said the grub-man, making a low
salutation behind his apron. "Hope you find it pleasant here,
sir;--spacious grounds--cool apartments, sir--hope you'll stay with us
some time--try to make it agreeable. May Mrs. Cutlets and I have the
pleasure of your company to dinner, sir, in Mrs. Cutlets' private room?"
"I prefer not to dine to-day," said Bartleby, turning away. "It would
disagree with me; I am unused to dinners." So saying he slowly moved to
the other side of the inclosure, and took up a position fronting the
dead-wall.
"How's this?" said the grub-man, addressing me with a stare of
astonishment. "He's odd, aint he?"
"I think he is a little deranged," said I, sadly.
"Deranged? deranged is it? Well now, upon my word, I thought that
friend of yourn was a gentleman forger; they are always pale and
genteel-like, them forgers. I can't pity'em--can't help it, sir.
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