Miss Ram killed him with a bow. “It is my custom. I have the reputation of seventeen years to sustain.”
George quailed.
“Your uncle,” Miss Ram exclaimed, “will also wish to see Miss Humfray. She shall go this afternoon.”
“Not this afternoon,” George told her. “No. To-morrow. He could not see her to-day.”
“Very well. To-morrow. To-night I will write the references to him. Kindly pay the fee to Miss Porter in the office. Good morning!”
She pushed him off with a stabbing bow. He fled.
VII.
In that delectable interview during Miss Ram's absence George had arranged with his Mary that this was a day to be celebrated. She should not proceed instantly to be weighed by Mr. Marrapit; let that ordeal be given to the morrow. This splendid day should splendidly end; tremendous gaiety should with a golden clasp fasten the golden hours of the morning. In the afternoon he had a lecture and clinical demonstrations. Like a horse he would work till half-past six. At seven he would meet his Mary in Sloane Square.
So it was. At that hour George from the top of his 'bus spied his Mary upon the little island in the Square. He sprang down and his first action was to show a fat and heavy sovereign, pregnant with delights, lying in his palm.
“Borrowed,” said George. “One pound sterling. Twenty shillings net. And every penny of it is going to fly.”