She put it into an envelope and handed it back to me.
“Then I mustn’t detain you,” she said, “any longer.”
Nor did I wish to stay. But I was now face to face with a situation of the utmost difficulty. Growingly repugnant as was this woman’s presence to me, and singularly complete as had been my moral triumph, both my posterior trouser-buttons were still lying upon the floor.
“Oh, I see,” she said, “would you like to take them with you? I’ll put them in an envelope and then you won’t lose them.”
She accordingly did so, handing me the envelope, which I quickly took from her and placed in my pocket.
“You see, I’m afraid,” she said, “that I could hardly trust myself to—to actually sew them on.”
I bowed to her coldly, ignoring the split infinitive.
“Nor should I have seen fit,” I said, “to concede you the opportunity.”
Obviously shamed, she lowered her eyes, and to hide her confusion rang the bell, and I am glad to acknowledge that the entrance of the good-looking parlourmaid was not wholly unwelcome to me. Though but a menial, I had already discovered in her some of the most desirable female qualities, and I am happy to record that in a moment of acute anxiety, she played an humble but not unworthy part.
Mrs. Lorton turned to her.