I was shaking my head over my own controversial incompetence—with, perhaps, a furtive saving plea that it was very hard to tell all one's thoughts to an ecclesiastic—when I was suddenly brought back to more tangible matters; perhaps also to my modicum of truth—that Jenny would seem to Jenny an exceptional person. In short, on turning the next corner, I all but ran into Mr. Nelson Powers.
He looked as greasily insinuating as ever. He also appeared to be more prosperous than when I had last seen him. He looked, so to say, established—as if he had a right to be where he was, not so much as if he were "trying it on"—with eyes open for kicks or the police. He was strolling about the streets of Catsford quite with the air of belonging to it.
He did not recognize me, or would not. He was almost by me when I stopped him.
"Mr. Powers? Surely it is? What brings you to Catsford?"
"Mr. Austin? Yes! Well, now, how do you do, sir? I'm glad to meet you again. I was unlucky in missing that dinner—well, never mind! But you've heard? Miss Driver has mentioned my appointment?"
"I've heard nothing of any appointment."
"Ah, perhaps I'm premature in mentioning it. I'll say good afternoon, Mr. Austin."
I seemed to have nothing to say to him. I was rather bewildered; I thought that we had really seen the end of Powers.
He stretched out his hand, and took hold of mine, depriving me of all initiative in the matter.
"Miss Driver will speak in her own time, sir. I—I should only like to say, sir, that I—I recognize the change in Miss Driver's position. One learns wisdom, Mr. Austin. Good afternoon, sir." He pressed my hand—he was wearing gloves and I was not sorry for it—and was round the corner while I was still gaping.