"I mentioned Thursday," said Henchard; "and as you did not keep your
appointment, I have engaged another manager. At first I thought he must
be you. Do you think I can wait when business is in question?"

"You said Thursday or Saturday, sir," said the newcomer, pulling out a
letter.

"Well, you are too late," said the corn-factor. "I can say no more."

"You as good as engaged me," murmured the man.

"Subject to an interview," said Henchard. "I am sorry for you--very
sorry indeed. But it can't be helped."

There was no more to be said, and the man came out, encountering
Elizabeth-Jane in his passage. She could see that his mouth twitched
with anger, and that bitter disappointment was written in his face
everywhere.

Elizabeth-Jane now entered, and stood before the master of the premises.
His dark pupils--which always seemed to have a red spark of light in
them, though this could hardly be a physical fact--turned indifferently
round under his dark brows until they rested on her figure. "Now then,
what is it, my young woman?" he said blandly.

"Can I speak to you--not on business, sir?" said she.

"Yes--I suppose." He looked at her more thoughtfully.

"I am sent to tell you, sir," she innocently went on, "that a distant