Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 149: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

140 GUY HAMMERSLEY. There was certainly a bond of sympathy between the two, for Bert’s father was in the army, his mother was dead, and he had but few living relatives. Hence, Guy could readily understand that he might at times feel lonely, no matter how much his father’s money could do for him. Monday at nine o'clock the two repaired to the offices of Kenworthy & Clarke, which Guy found to be fitted up more like the private apartments of a millionaire than the counting-rooms of a business firm. Everything was in hard-wood finish, there were expensive rugs strewn about the floors, while electric lights, paintings on the walls and a frescoed ceiling added to the completeness of the establish- ment. ‘‘There’s an extra desk yonder you can have,” said Bert, as he pushed back the top of his own. ‘‘Now sit down by mea few minutes till Mr. Ken- worthy comes in. Then I'll introduce you. Here he is now.” A young man of about twenty-eight entered, tall, fine-looking and dressed as iffor an afternoon prom- enade on the avenue. Guy was presented as a particular friend and old schoolmate of Arlington’s. Mr. Kenworthy took him into his private office, and after a brief talk engaged him on the terms men- tioned by Bert. ‘Arlington will instruct you in your duties,” said the senior partner in dismissing him, ‘‘and I think, judging from your looks and manner, that you will prove an apt pupil.” So it turned out. The business called for just Gomicboo <S (€(@) m