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"Halloa!" said Mr. Stryver. "How do you do? I hope you are well!"

It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he always seemed too big

for any place, or space. He was so much too big for Tellson's,

that old clerks in distant corners looked up with looks of

remonstrance, as though he squeezed them against the wall. The

House itself, magnificently reading the paper quite in the

far-off perspective, lowered displeased, as if the Stryver head

had been butted into its responsible waistcoat.

The discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sample tone of the voice he

would recommend under the circumstances, "How do you do, Mr.

Stryver? How do you do, sir?" and shook hands. There was a

peculiarity in his manner of shaking hands, always to be seen in

any clerk at Tellson's who shook hands with a customer when the

House pervaded the air. He shook in a self-abnegating way, as one

who shook for Tellson and Co.

"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?" asked Mr. Lorry, in his

business character.