The woman’s face seemed suddenly to lose a button, as if she were going to cry, but just then the dog whimpered; she took it up on her lap. Ivor thought:
‘How much have I got on me?’
“The fact is, Mr. Ivor,” said the man, “I’m broke to the world, if you understand my meaning. If once I could get back to London——”
“What do you say, madam?”
The woman’s mouth quivered and mumbled; Ivor stopped her with his hand.
“Well,” he said, “I can give you enough to get up to London with, and a little over. But that’s all, I’m afraid. And, forgive me, I’m very busy.” He stood up. The man rose also.
“I don’t want to say anything about my wife; you’ll forgive my mentioning it, but there’s not a lady in England that’s her equal at makin’ babies’ slippers.”
“Indeed!” said Ivor. “Well, here you are!” And he held out some pound notes. The man took the notes; one of his trouser-legs was pitiably patched.
“I’m sure I’m more than grateful——” he said; and looking at Ivor as if he expected to be contradicted, added: “I can’t say better than that, can I?”
“No,” said Ivor, and opened the door.