"See here," he said quietly, and with unconscious grandeur. "We're neighbours. I'll make you a present of the book."
Did she say, as a silly little creature would have said: "Oh, no! I couldn't possibly. I really couldn't"? Not a bit. She said simply:
"It's most kind of you, Mr. Earlforward. It really is. Of course I accept it with pleasure. Thank you."
And she looked down, like a girl who has received a necklace and clasped it on her neck. Yes, she looked down. The moment was marvellous to Mr. Earlforward.
"But I do think you're a little hard on Riceyman Square," he said, as she unlocked the door for his departure.
She replied gaily and firmly: "Not one house without a broken pane!" She insisted and held out her hand.
"Well, we must see one day," said he.
She nodded.
"And if there is," she said, "I shall pay you a shilling for the book. That's fair."
She shook hands. Mr. Earlforward crossed the space between her shop and his with perfect calmness, and as he approached his door he took from his pocket with the mechanical movement of regular habit a shining key.