"I suppose you rather fancy yourself dancing with your betters?" growled
Mr Duncalf, menacingly.

"Yes," said Denry. "Do _you_?"

He had not meant to say it. The question slipped out of his mouth. He
had recently formed the habit of retorting swiftly upon people who put
queries to him: "Yes, are _you_?" or "No, do _you_?" The trick
of speech had been enormously effective with Shillitoe, for instance,
and with the Countess. He was in process of acquiring renown for it.
Certainly it was effective now. Mr Duncalf's dance with the Countess had
come to an ignominious conclusion in the middle, Mr Duncalf preferring
to dance on skirts rather than on the floor, and the fact was notorious.

"You can take a week's notice," said Mr Duncalf, pompously.

It was no argument. But employers are so unscrupulous in an altercation.

"Oh, very well," said Denry; and to himself he said: "Something
_must_ turn up, now."

He felt dizzy at being thus thrown upon the world--he who had been
meditating the propriety of getting himself elected to the stylish and
newly-established Sports Club at Hillport! He felt enraged, for Mr
Duncalf had only been venting on Denry the annoyance induced in him by
Mrs Codleyn. But it is remarkable that he was not depressed at all. No!
he went about with songs and whistling, though he had no prospects
except starvation or living on his mother. He traversed the streets in
his grand, new manner, and his thoughts ran: "What on earth can I do to
live up to my reputation?" However, he possessed intact the five-pound