the room with gleaming, excited eyes. 

 “Mrs. Hignett, I must have a word with you alone!” 

 “You are having a word with me alone.” 

 “I hardly know how to begin.” 

 “Then let me help you. It is quite impossible. I will never consent.” 

 Bream Mortimer started. 

 “Then you have heard about it?” 

 “I have heard about nothing else since I met Mr. Bennett in London. Mr. Bennett talked about nothing else. Your father talked about nothing else. And now,” cried Mrs. Hignett, fiercely, “you come and try to re-open the subject. Once and for all, nothing will alter my decision. No money will induce me to let my house.” 

 “But I didn’t come about that!” 

 “You did not come about Windles?” 

 “Good Lord, no!” 

 “Then will you kindly tell me why you have come?” 

 Bream Mortimer seemed embarrassed. He wriggled a little, and moved his arms as if he were trying to flap them. 

 “You know,” he said, “I’m not a man who butts into other people’s affairs....” He stopped. 

 “No?” said Mrs. Hignett. 

 Bream began again. 

 “I’m not a man who gossips with valets....” 

 “No?” 

 “I’m not a man who....” 

 Mrs. Hignett was never a very patient woman. 

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