CHAPTER XII.
In which the Readerkin will, if he has an ounce of brains, begin to catch the inevitable Denoumong of the Imbroglio.
Monday is the first working day of the week: and upon Monday—at least on some Mondays—Mr. Kirby actually went to his office.
Mr. Kirby so far loved duty or routine or respected the tradition of centuries—or anything else you like—as to visit his office upon some Mondays at sometime or other in the forenoon. It was a superstition with which he could not break, sensible as he would have been to have broken with it. His ample and increasing income proceeded mainly from investment; he was utterly devoid of avarice; he had neither family nor heirs. He was delighted that his junior partners should do the work, and they were welcome to the financial result of it. But still, the firm was Kirby and Blake, and his name was Kirby, and I think he had an inward feeling, unexpressed, that he stood a little better with
