Babu went on worrying himself in this manner, taking an occasional pull at his hooka. The hawkers of mohonbhog, the gowalas selling ghee, were passing along the street at intervals, plaintively shouting for customers. Sitting in his lonely office room, poor Subodh finished a whole chelum of tobacco of the four-annas a seer quality.
Some one's footsteps became audible in the compound outside. Subodh started up, muttering to himslf—"Who is that? A client, perhaps?" He had an old battered brief relating to a case long ago decided, which he used to keep handy for show. He quickly snatched it up from the side table and in a moment became deeply immersed in its dirty pages.
The footsteps climbed up the verandah and the next moment Jagat Prasanna Babu made this appearance with a newspaper in his hand. Subodh pushed the old brief aside and hailed his friend with delight, saying—"Glad to see you, old chap. It is an unexpected pleasure, so early in the day."
"Oh, I was so tired sitting all by myself."—Jagat responded—"So I thought I would just look in and have a chat."
"I am glad. I also was longing for company. What's the paper—today's Bengalee? Let me have a look."
