He
considered that it made him look like a man of science or of letters.
But it didn't. It did much better for him than that. It took all the
subtlety out of his face and endowed it with an earnest and enormous
stare. And as that large mouth couldn't and wouldn't close properly,
his sentences had a way of dying off in a faint gasp, leaving a great
deal to the imagination. All these natural characteristics were
invaluable for business purposes.

But if you had asked Mr. Pilkington for the secret of his success, he
would have told you that he owed it to his possession of two
qualities, "bounce" and "tact." To both, mind you; for tact without
bounce will carry a man neither far nor high; while bounce without
tact will elevate him occasionally to his own perdition.
Conversationally he was furnished with tentacles sensitive to the
lightest touch of an idea; he had the very subtlest discernment of
shades within shades. He grasped with airy impact; he moved by a
delicate contact and recoil, a process he was pleased to describe as
"feelin' his way."

He did not rush brutally into business, as a man of coarser fibre
might have done. He removed his gloves, adjusted his eye-glass and
admired the view. He shrank from the suggestion that he had come to
"take possession," but clearly he could not take possession of the
view. It was a safe and soothing topic.

"You have a very glorious outlook here, Miss Harden."

Then Mr. Pilkington perceived a shade. Miss Harden's outlook was _not_
glorious.

By an almost visible recoil from his own blunder he strove to convey
an impression of excessive delicacy.

"Wot very exceptional weather we are enjoying--" Perceiving another
and a finer shade (for evidently Miss Harden was not enjoying the
weather, or indeed anything else) Mr. Pilkington again shifted his
ground. He spoke of books. He noticed with approval the arrangement of
the library. He admired the Harden taste in costly bindings, as if he
were by no means personally concerned with any of these things. And
thus by a delicate and imperceptible transition, he slid into his
theme.

"Now, as regards this--this sale, Miss Harden. I hope you
understand--"

"I understand that you are my father's chief creditor, and that the
sale is necessary."

"Quite so. But I'm most awfully sorry for the necessity As for time--I
don't want you to feel that you're pressed or hurried in any way." Mr.
Pilkington's eyes gazed up at her under their gr