early hour for it because I wanted to get it done with. I wasn't going to
have my morning murdered with violence when it was two hours old; neither
did I intend it to be poisoned by the thought of this interview hanging
over me at the end.

I had just sent for Pavitt, my man, and told him that if Miss Thesiger
called he was on no account to let her in. He was to say that the
appointment was for nine-thirty and that Mr. Furnival was now engaged.
She would have to call again at three if she wished to see him. When
engaging a typist it is as well to begin as you mean to go on, and I was
anxious to let Miss Thesiger know at once that I was not a man who would
stand any nonsense. I was abominably busy that morning.

And Pavitt let her in. (It was the first time he had failed in this way.)
He never explained or apologized for it afterwards. He seemed to think
that when I had seen Miss Thesiger I would see, even more vividly than he
did, how impossible it was to do otherwise, unless he had relinquished
all claim to manhood and to chivalry. The look he sent me from the
threshold as he retreated backwards, drawing the door upon himself like a
screen and shutting me in alone with her, said very plainly, "You may
curse, sir, and you may swear; but if you think you'll get out of it any
better than I have you're mistaken."

Yes: it was something more than her appearance and her manner, though
they, in all conscience, were enough.

I do not know what appearance and what manner, if any, are proper to a
young woman calling on a young man at his rooms to seek employment. The
mere situation may, for all I know, bristle with embarrassments. Anyhow,
I can imagine that in some hands it might have moments, let us say, of