o was
coming-on towards him. It horrified him, it exasperated him, it made
him hate the whole tribe of women: horrific two-legged cats without
whiskers. If he had been a bird, his innate horror of a cat would
have been such. He liked the _angel_, and particularly the
angel-mother in woman. Oh!--that he worshipped. But coming-on-ness!

So he never wanted to be seen out-of-doors with Alvina; if he met
her in the street he bowed and passed on: bowed very deep and
reverential, indeed, but passed on, with his little back a little
more strutty and assertive than ever. Decidedly he turned his back
on her in public.

But Miss Pinnegar, a regular old, grey, dangerous she-puss, eyed him
from the corner of her pale eye, as he turned tail.

"So unmanly!" she murmured. "In his dress, in his way, in
everything--so unmanly."

"If I was you, Alvina," she said, "I shouldn't see so much of Mr.
May, in the drawing-room. People will talk."

"I should almost feel flattered," laughed Alvina.

"What do you mean?" snapped Miss Pinnegar.

None the less, Mr. May was dependable in matters of business. He was
up at half-past five in the morning, and by seven was well on his
way. He sailed like a stiff little ship before a steady breeze,
hither and thither, out of Woodhouse and back again, and across from
side to side. Sharp and snappy, he was, on the spot. He trussed
himself up, when he was angry or displeased, and sharp, snip-snap
came his words, rather like scissors.

"But how is it--" he attacked Arthur Witham--"that the gas isn't
connected with the main yet? It was to be ready yesterday."

"We've had to wait for the fixings for them brackets," said Arthur.

"_Had_ to _wait_ for _fixings_! But didn't you know a fortnight ago
that you'd want the fixings?"

"I thought we should have some as would do."

"Oh! you thought so! Really! Kind of you to think so. And have you
just thought about those that are coming, or have you made sure?"

Arthur looked at him sullenly. He hated him. But Mr. May's sharp
touch was not to be foiled.

"I hope you'll go further than _thinking_," said Mr. May. "Thinking
seems such a slow process. And when do you expect the fittings--?"

"Tomorrow."

"What! Another day! Another day _still!_ But you're strangely
indifferent to time, in your line of business. Oh! _Tomorrow!_
Imagine it! Two days late already, and then _tomorrow!_ Well I hope
by tomorrow you mean _Wednesday_, and not tomorrow's tomorrow, or