"I want to see Mr Orgles."

The man looked at her attentively.

"I've come from Mr Evans at Poole and Palfrey's," murmured Mavis.

The man left her and spoke to one of the regal young women, who
stood behind the counter as if trying to make believe that they were
there, not from necessity, but from choice.

The man returned to Mavis and told her to wait. As she stood in the
shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth
something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or
three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to
stare continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled,
when a message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs,
Mr Orgles would see her. The shop-walker walked before Mavis to show
her the way. She could not help noticing that the man's demeanour
had changed: he had approached her, when he first saw her, with the
servility peculiar to his occupation; now, having fathomed her
errand, he marched before her with elbows stuck out and head erect,
as if to convey what an important personage he was.

She was shown into a plainly furnished office, where she was told to
wait. She wondered if, at last, she would have any luck. She sat
there for about ten minutes, when a man came into the room, shutting
the door after him. He was about sixty-five, and walked with a
stoop. His face reminded Mavis of a camel. He had large bulging
eyes, which seemed to gaze at objects sideways. He looked like the
deacon at a house of dissenting worship, which, indeed, he was.