She turned away. “You have given me the information I require,” she said. “Thank you once more, and good morning.” Jacob lost his head for a moment. It was impossible to let her drift away like this. “Miss Bultiwell,” he protested, “you are very hard on me. I wish you would allow me a few words of explanation. Will you—will you lunch with me?” She looked him up and down, and not even the consciousness [Pg 78]of those well-chosen and suitable clothes, of his very handsome bachelor flat at the Milan, his wonderful Rolls-Royce, and his summer retreat at Marlingden, with its acre of roses, helped him to retain an atom of self-confidence. He was no longer the man to whom the finger of envy pointed. The glance withered him as though he had indeed been a criminal. [Pg 78] “Certainly not,” she answered. She made her way towards the door, and Jacob watched her helplessly. In her plain tweed coat and skirt, her sensible but homely shoes, her cheap little grey tam-o’-shanter hat, with its single yellow quill, she was just as attractive as she had been in the days when the first modiste in London had taken a pride in dressing her. She reached the door and passed out before Jacob had been able to make up his mind to step forward and open it for her. He gazed at the spot where she had disappeared, with blank face and unseeing eyes. Suddenly the door was reopened and closed again. She came towards him very deliberately. “Mr. Pratt,” she said, “I am a very selfish and a very greedy person. I have lunched most days, for the last three months, at an A. B. C. shop opposite the office where I am working, and I hate the food and everything about that sort of place. If I accept your invitation, will you allow me to order exactly what I please, and remember that it is sheer greed [Pg 79]which induces me even to sit down in the same room with you?” [Pg 79] Jacob sighed as he rose and stretched out his hand for his hat. “Come on any terms you please,” he answered, with eager humility. [Pg 80]
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