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- 1505
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:34.136Z
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- start_line
- 1460
- text
- “Introduce me, will you?” said the grub-man, looking at me with an
expression which seemed to say he was all impatience for an opportunity
to give a specimen of his breeding.
Thinking it would prove of benefit to the scrivener, I acquiesced; and
asking the grub-man his name, went up with him to Bartleby.
“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. Did you
know Monroe Edwards?” he added touchingly, and paused. Then, laying his
hand pityingly on my shoulder, sighed, “he died of consumption at
Sing-Sing. So you weren’t acquainted with Monroe?”
“No, I was never socially acquainted with any forgers. But I cannot
stop longer. Look to my friend yonder. You will not lose by it. I will
see you again.”
Some few days after this, I again obtained admission to the Tombs, and
went through the corridors in quest of Bartleby; but without finding
him.
“I saw him coming from his cell not long ago,” said a turnkey, “may be
he’s gone to loiter in the yards.”
So I went in that direction.
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