George comprehended that Mr. Prince admired him and looked up to him after all.
"My town hall is being opened to-morrow."
"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you."
They knew a good deal about him—where he lived, the statistics of his family, and so on. He picked up his hat.
"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said Marguerite, gazing straight into his eyes.
"Rather!" said Mr. Prince.
They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this Bird-of-paradise. But they did not urge him to stay longer.
As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a half-finished book-cover design on a table.
"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to examine.
Husband and wife, always more interested in their own affairs than in other people's, responded willingly to his curiosity. George praised, and his praise was greatly esteemed. Mr. Prince talked about the changes in trade bindings, which were all for the worse. The bright spot was that Marguerite's price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings. This improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to them. To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after vicissitudes, of four shillings in fourteen years should be