"Why, Edwin," she said in extremely clear, somewhat surprised, and gently benevolent accents. "What ever's the matter with you? There is a programme of music, I suppose?" (There she was, ridiculously changing the meaning of the word programme! What infantile tactics!) "It occurred to me all of a sudden yesterday afternoon how nice it would be to have it printed on gilt-edged cards, so I ran down to the shop, but you weren't there. So I saw Big James."
"You never said anything to me about it last night. Nor this morning."
"Didn't I? ... Well, I forgot."
Grotesque creature!
"Well, what did Big James say?"
"Oh! Don't ask me. But if he treats all your customers as he treated me ... However, it doesn't matter now. I shall write the programme out myself."
"What did he say?"
"It wasn't what he said.... But he's very rude, you know. Other people think so too."
"What other people?"
"Oh! Never mind who! Of course, I know how to take it. And I know you believe in him blindly. But his airs are preposterous. And he's a dirty old man. And I say, Edwin, seeing how very particular you are about things at home, you really ought to see that the front shop is kept cleaner. It's no affair of mine, and I never interfere,--but really...!"