humorously convivial to a fault. Corporeally, he is a podgy man,
with a square, clean shaven face and a square beard under his
chin; dust colored, with a patch of grey in the centre, and small
watery blue eyes with a plaintively sentimental expression, which
he transfers easily to his voice by his habit of pompously
intoning his sentences.)

BURGESS (stopping on the threshold, and looking round). They told
me Mr. Morell was here.

PROSERPINE (rising). He's upstairs. I'll fetch him for you.

BURGESS (staring boorishly at her). You're not the same young
lady as used to typewrite for him?

PROSERPINE. No.

BURGESS (assenting). No: she was younger. (Miss Garnett stolidly
stares at him; then goes out with great dignity. He receives this
quite obtusely, and crosses to the hearth-rug, where he turns and
spreads himself with his back to the fire.) Startin' on your
rounds, Mr. Mill?

LEXY (folding his paper and pocketing it). Yes: I must be off
presently.

BURGESS (momentously). Don't let me detain you, Mr. Mill. What I
come about is private between me and Mr. Morell.

LEXY (huffily). I have no intention of intruding, I am sure, Mr.