For the next month, occupied with my own affairs, I saw no one connected with this lamentable business, and my mind ceased to be occupied with it. But one day, when I was walking along, bent on some errand, I passed Charles Strickland. The sight of him brought back to me all the horror which I was not unwilling to forget, and I felt in me a sudden repulsion for the cause of it. Nodding, for it would have been childish to cut him, I walked on quickly; but in a minute I felt a hand on my shoulder.  
"You're in a great hurry," he said cordially.
 
It was characteristic of him to display geniality with anyone who showed a disinclination to meet him, and the coolness of my greeting can have left him in little doubt of that.
 
"I am," I answered briefly.
 
"I'll walk along with you," he said.
 
"Why?" I asked.
 
"For the pleasure of your society."
 
I did not answer, and he walked by my side silently. We continued thus for perhaps a quarter of a mile. I began to feel a little ridiculous. At last we passed a stationer's, and it occurred to me that I might as well buy some paper. It would be an excuse to be rid of him.
 
"I'm going in here," I said. "Good-bye."
 
"I'll wait for you."
 
I shrugged my shoulders, and went into the shop. I reflected that French paper was bad, and that, foiled of my purpose, I need not burden myself with a purchase that I did not need. I asked for something I knew could not be provided, and in a minute came out into the street.
 
"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.
 
"No."
 
We walked on in silence, and then came to a place where several streets met. I stopped at the curb.
 
"Which way do you go?" I enquired.
 
"Your way," he smiled.
 
"I'm going home."
 
"I'll come along with you and smoke a pipe."
 
"You might wait for an invitation," I retorted frigidly.
 
"I would if I thought there was any c............