Mavis rightly concluded this person to be Mr Orgles.

"You wished to see me?" he asked.

"Mr Orgles?"

"That's my name."

Mavis explained why she had called: it was as much as she could do
to hide her anxiety. Mr Orgles not making any reply, she went on
speaking, saying how she would do her utmost to give satisfaction in
the event of her being engaged.

While she was pleading, she was conscious that the man was looking
in his sideways fashion at her figure. He approached her. Mavis
suddenly felt an instinct of repugnance for the man. She said all
she could think of, but Mr Orgles remained silent; she anxiously
scanned his face in the hope of getting some encouragement from its
expression, but she might as well have stared at a brick wall for
all the enlightenment she got. Then followed a few moments' pause,
during which her eyes were riveted on Mr Orgles's nostrils: these
were prominent, large, dilating; they fascinated her. As he still
remained silent, she presently found courage to ask:

"Will you take me?"

He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers,
fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little
cry; she rose to go.