"Has she told you she wants to go over a printing-works?"
"No," Clayhanger answered, with interest. "But I shall be very pleased to show her over ours, any time."
Hilda struck into silence, made no response, and instantly Clayhanger finished, in another tone: "Look here, I must be off. I only slipped in for a minute--really."
And he went, declining Mr. Orgreave's request to give a date for his next call. The bang of the front door resounded through the house.
Mr. Orgreave, having taken Clayhanger to the front door, did not return immediately into the breakfast-room. Hilda jumped up from the sofa, hesitant. She was disappointed; she was even resentful; assuredly she was humiliated. "Oh no!" she thought. "He's weak and afraid.... I dare say he went off because Janet wasn't here." She heard through the half-open door Mr. Orgreave's slippers on the tiles of the passage leading to the stairs.
Martha came into the room with a delighted, curious smile.
"If you please, miss, could you come into the hall a minute?... Some one to speak to you."
Hilda blushed silently, and obeyed. Clayhanger was standing in the chill hall, hat in hand. Her heart jumped.
"When will you come to look over our works?" he muttered rapidly and very nervously, and yet with a dictatorial gruffness. "To-morrow? I should like you to come."
He had put an enchantment upon her by this marvellous return. And to conceal from him what he had done, she frowned and kept silent.