"It still wants an hour till 'Poulter's' evening classes commence. As you've joined 'Poulter's' staff, it might be as well if you shared one of the privileges of your position."
This particular privilege consisted of Mavis's being taken downstairs to Mr Poulter's private sitting-room. This was a homely apartment furnished with much-worn horsehair furniture, together with many framed and unframed flashlight photographs of various "Terpsichorean Festivals," in all of which, conspicuous in the foreground, was Mr Poulter, wearing a big white rosette on the lapel of his evening coat.
"Smoke if you want to, won't you?" said Mavis.
"Thank you," replied Mr Poulter, "but I only smoke after 'Poulter's' is closed. It might give 'Poulter's' a bad reputation if the young lady pupils went 'ome smelling of smoke."
"'E thinks of everything," declared Miss Nippett admiringly.
"'Poulter's' is not deficient in worldly wisdom," remarked the dancing-master with subdued pride.
"I'm sure of that," said Mavis hypocritically, as she looked at the simple face of the kindly old man.
"Suppose we have a game of cards," suggested Mr Poulter presently.
"Promise you won't cheat," said Mavis.
Mr Poulter laughed uneasily before saying: