"Mr. Spinner, miss."
A tall, imposingly rotund man walked in, hat in hand, his fat and rosy face all smiling affability.
"So sorry to disturb you, madam," he began, bowing.
"Not at all," murmured Miss Crane, wondering greatly who he could be. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you. I think I will."
He took a chair, sat down, carefully spreading out the skirts of his frock-coat, and, crossing his legs, looked condescendingly round the room.
Miss Crane, with heightened colour, waited expectantly.
"I am well aware," began Mr. Spinner presently, "that the name of business has to ladies a very unpleasant sound; but I venture to say that Miss Crane will find the little matter which has brought me here this evening far from being a disagreeable subject."
"Indeed!" murmured Miss Crane.
"But before I proceed further, allow me to consult my notes." Mr. Spinner took out a spectacle case, placed his glasses carefully on the bridge of his nose, glanced at Miss Crane through them, then taking a note-book from his breast pocket, opened it, and taking out a paper, cleared his throat and continued: "You are, I believe, Miss Letitia J. Crane, eldest daughter of the late Rev. Joshua Crane, M.A., formerly curate of St. Mary, in the parish of Tulberry."