In the days when I lived in Hecate County, I had an uncomfortable neighbor, a man named Asa M. Stryker. He had at one time, he told me, taught chemistry in some sorry-sounding college in Pennsylvania, but he now lived on a little money which he had been “lucky enough to inherit.” I had the feeling about him that somewhere in his background was defeat or frustration or disgrace. He was a bachelor and kept two servants—a cook and a man around the place. I never knew anyone to visit him, though he would occasionally go away for short periods—when, he would tell me, he was visiting relatives.
(My mentor Howard Pease continues) The point of view in this story is the one so often used by Somerset Maugham. It is the viewpoint of an observer, the “I” person, who tells us about the protagonist, an interesting friend or acquaintance. We never enter the mind of the main character. We merely see him in action and hear him talk, all of this interpreted for us by the observer, who is not even named.