He found the grand little man in his private room, and was affably received by him.
"Oh, yes," said Archibald, sniggering modestly. "We hope to make rather a big thing of our clearance sale.... How long shall we keep it going? Well, that depends. It wouldn't last long, if we'd nothing to dispose of beyond what's left over there; but we shall clear this side at the same time."
And Bence rattled on glibly, as though Mr. Prentice had come to interview him for an article in an important newspaper.
"The ancient notion was that this kind of special selling took the cream off one's ordinary trade. But experience has taught us that such is not the case. We find that trade breeds trade. And you can't tire your public—you can't over-stimulate them. It is the excited public that is your best buying public."
Mr. Prentice listened respectfully; and then, after the manner of a good interviewer, begged the host to pass from general views to personal reminiscences.
"What is it you wish to know?"
"About you and her," said Prentice. "I should enormously like to know the inward history of it."
"Well, now that the secret's out," said Archibald, rubbing his chin, and wrinkling the flesh round his bright little eyes, "I suppose there's no harm in speaking about it."
"Certainly not to me," said Prentice. "Although I wasn't in her confidence about this, I am a real true friend of hers."
"I know you are," said Bence cordially. "She has said so a hundred times."