you an invitation, if you like," said Denry, glancing at the
door precisely as he had glanced at the door before adding 2 to 7.

"Oh!" Shillitoe cocked his ears. He was not a native of the town, and
had no alderman to protect his legitimate interests.

To cut a shameful story short, in a week Denry was being tried on.
Shillitoe allowed him two years' credit.

The prospect of the ball gave an immense impetus to the study of the art
of dancing in Bursley, and so put quite a nice sum of money info the
pocket of Miss Earp, a young mistress in that art. She was the daughter
of a furniture dealer with a passion for the Bankruptcy Court. Miss
Earp's evening classes were attended by Denry, but none of his money
went into her pocket. She was compensated by an expression of the
Countess's desire for the pleasure of her company at the ball.

The Countess had aroused Denry's interest in women as a sex; Ruth Earp
quickened the interest. She was plain, but she was only twenty-four, and
very graceful on her feet. Denry had one or two strictly private lessons
from her in reversing. She said to him one evening, when he was
practising reversing and they were entwined in the attitude prescribed
by the latest fashion: "Never mind me! Think about yourself. It's the
same in dancing as it is in life--the woman's duty is to adapt herself
to the man." He did think about himself. He was thinking about himself
in the middle of the night, and about her too. There had been something
in her tone... her eye... At the final lesson he inquired if she would
give him the first waltz at the ball. She paused, then said yes.

V

On the evening of the ball, Denry spent at least two hours in the
operation which was necessary before he could give the Countess the
pleasure of his company. This operation took place in his minute bedroom
at the back of the cottage in Brougham Street, and it was of a complex
nature. Three weeks ago he had innocently thought that you had only to
order a dress-suit and there you were! He now knew that a dress-suit is
merely the beginning of anxiety. Shirt! Collar! Tie! Studs! Cuff-links!
Gloves! Handkerchief! (He was very glad to learn authoritatively from
Shillitoe that handkerchiefs were no longer worn in the waistcoat
opening, and that men who so wore them were barbarians and the truth was
not in them. Thus, an everyday handkerchief would do.) Boots!... Boots
were the rock on which he had struck. Shillitoe, in addition to