_Culch._ (_to himself_). Afraid she's gone too far--thinks she'll smooth me
down! Upon my word, it would serve her right to--but no, I won't be petty.
(_Aloud._) Pray tell Miss PRENDERGAST that I have no immediate intention of
altering my position.

_Podb._ Thanks awfully, old chap. I knew you'd oblige.

_Culch._ (_incisively_). I am obliging Miss PRENDERGAST, and her only.
(_Raising his voice, without turning his head._) Would you prefer me to
_face_ you, Miss PRENDERGAST?

_Miss P._ (_in tremulous tones_). N--no, thank you. It--it's so much more
n--natural, don't you know, for you to be l--looking at the view.

_Culch._ As you please. (_To himself._) Can't meet my eye. Good! I shall go
on treating her distantly for a little. I wonder if I look indifferent
enough from behind? Shall I cross one foot? Better not--she may have begun
sketching me. If she imagines I'm susceptible to feminine flattery of this
palpable kind, she'll--how her voice shook, though, when she spoke. Poor
girl, she's afraid she offended me by laughing--and I _did_ think she had
more sense than to--but I mustn't be too hard on her. I'm afraid she's
already beginning to think too much of--and with my peculiar position with
Miss TROTTER--(MAUD, that is)--not that there's anything definite at
present, still--(_Aloud._) Ahem, Miss PRENDERGAST--am I standing as you
wish? (_To himself._) She doesn't answer--too absorbed, and I can't hear
that idiot--found he hasn't scored so much after all, and gone off in a
huff, I expect. So much the better! What a time she is over this, and how
quiet she keeps! I wish I knew whether it was coquetry or--shall I turn
round and see? No, I must be perfectly indifferent. And she _did_ laugh at