Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man?

Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van
was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the
street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the
largest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen
protruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of
the driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage,
disputing.

'It is not for us,' the girl was saying. 'I beg you to take it away; it
couldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the
van.'

'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange
with the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman.

'But I am not M. Finsbury,' expostulated the girl.

'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman.

'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon, putting
out his hand.

Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. 'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, 'I am
so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have
come here by mistake, into the house. The man says we'll have to take
off the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by
the Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the
pavement.'