admiration.

'When are you goin' to buy me that locket, Bob, to put a bit of your
'air in?' she inquired pertinently.

'You just wait, can't you? There's a event coming off next week. I
won't say nothing, but you just wait.'

'I'm tired o' waitin'. See here; you ain't goin' to best me out of
it?'

'Me best you? Don't be a bloomin' fool, Clem!'

He laughed heartily, and in a few minutes allowed himself to be
embraced and sent off to his chamber at the top of the house.

Clem summoned her servant from the passage. At the same moment there
entered another lodger, the only one whose arrival Clem still
awaited. His mode of ascending the stairs was singular; one would
have imagined that he bore some heavy weight, for he proceeded very
slowly, with a great clumping noise, surmounting one step at a time
in the manner of a child. It was Mr. Marple, the cab-driver, and his
way of going up to bed was very simply explained by the fact that a
daily sixteen hours of sitting on the box left his legs in a numb
and practically useless condition.

The house was now quiet. Clem locked the front-door and returned to
the kitchen, eager with anticipation of the jest she was going to
carry out. First of all she had to pick a quarrel with Jane; this
was very easily managed. She pretended to look about the room for a