felt enraged, for Mr
Duncalf had only been venting on Denry the annoyance induced in him by
Mrs Codleyn. But it is remarkable that he was not depressed at all. No!
he went about with songs and whistling, though he had no prospects
except starvation or living on his mother. He traversed the streets in
his grand, new manner, and his thoughts ran: "What on earth can I do to
live up to my reputation?" However, he possessed intact the five-pound
note won from Harold Etches in the matter of the dance.

II

Every life is a series of coincidences. Nothing happens that is not
rooted in coincidence. All great changes find their cause in
coincidence. Therefore I shall not mince the fact that the next change
in Denry's career was due to an enormous and complicated coincidence. On
the following morning both Mrs Codleyn and Denry were late for service
at St Luke's Church--Mrs Codleyn by accident and obesity, Denry by
design. Denry was later than Mrs Codleyn, whom he discovered waiting in
the porch. That Mrs Codleyn was waiting is an essential part of the
coincidence. Now Mrs Codleyn would not have been waiting if her pew had
not been right at the front of the church, near the choir. Nor would she
have been waiting if she had been a thin woman and not given to
breathing loudly after a hurried walk. She waited partly to get her
breath, and partly so that she might take advantage of a hymn or a psalm
to gain her seat without attracting attention. If she had not been late,
if she had not been stout, if she had not had a seat under the pulpit,
if she had not had an objection to making herself conspicuous, she would
have been already in the church and Denry would not have had a private
colloquy with her.

"Well, you're nice people, I must say!" she observed, as he raised his
hat.

She meant Duncalf and all Duncalf's myrmidons. She was still full of her
grievance. The letter which she had received that morning had startled
her. And even the shadow of the sacred edifice did not prevent her from
referring to an affair that was more suited to Monday than to Sunday
morning. A little more, and she would have snorted.

"Nothing to do with me, you know!" Denry defended himself.

"Oh!" she said, "you're all alike, and I'll tell you this, Mr Machin,
I'd take him at his word if it wasn't that I don't know who else
I could trust to collect my rents. I've heard such tales about
rent-collectors.... I reckon I shall have to make my peace with hi