"No hurry, is there?" said Collins. He was busy with his ugly black bag, getting out the important document, and unfolding some memorandum papers.
"Oh, I'm in no particular hurry," said Marsden. "But twelve o'clock was the hour named."
"Is it twelve.... Can you hear Holy Trinity clock from here, Prentice? We hear it plainly at our place."
Then dapper, smiling Mr. Archibald Bence was announced.
"Come in," said Collins patronisingly. "Here we are, all assembled. Be seated. Fielding, put a chair for Mr. Bence."
Mr. Archibald looked splendid in the sunlight. He shone all over, from his bald head to his patent leather boots. His black coat was beautifully braided, elegantly padded on the shoulders, tightly pulled in at the waist; his buff waistcoat exactly matched his wash-leather gloves; and with him there entered the room a pleasing fragrance shed by the moss roses in his button-hole. He bowed gallantly to the only lady present, had an affable word for Prentice and Collins, and nodded rather contemptuously to Marsden.
"Gentlemen," he said blandly, "it is the sort of day on which one is glad to be alive;" and he turned about, with a dandified air, to find a vacant spot for his brand-new topper.
"Take Mr. Bence's hat," said Collins; and his clerk did as he was bid.
Bence, declining a chair, went and leaned against the wall near Mrs. Marsden, and twirled his moustache.