And Mr. Pinner, instead of pushing him out of the shop as Jocelyn, knowing his own poverty, expected, nearly fell on his neck.
‘Marry her? You did say marry, didn’t you, sir?’ he said in a trembling voice, flushing right up to his worried, kind blue eyes.
He could scarcely believe that he heard right. This young gentleman—a car, and all—nothing against him as far as he could see, and he hoped he could see as far as most people, except his youth.... But if he hadn’t been so young he mightn’t so badly have wanted to marry Sally, Mr. Pinner told himself, his eyes, now full of respect and awe, on the eager face of the suitor, for from experience he knew that everybody had wanted to do something badly with Sally, but it had hardly ever been marriage.
‘If your intentions is honourable——’ began Mr. Pinner.
‘Honourable! Good God. As though——’
‘Now, now, sir,’ interrupted Mr. Pinner gently, holding up a deprecating hand, ‘no need to get swearing. No need at all.’
‘No, no—of course not. I beg your pardon. But I must see her—I must be able to talk to her——’
‘Exactly, sir. Step inside,’ said Mr. Pinner, opening the door to the back room.
§
There sat Sally, mending in the lamplight.