"Moderately fairly well," he replied. "Can't say more than that!"
Millwood and I came into collision, and each showed an irritability over the incident not usual with either of us. My own idea is that my brother-in-law's manner was responsible. He bounced into the shop one morning when the rain was pelting down, and spattering up from the pavement; he was in the habit of taking great credit to himself for never carrying an umbrella, and on this occasion he was without an overcoat. His first act, the swinging to and fro of his wet bowler hat, caused me to speak sharply.
"You needn't worry," he said. "I'm coming back here. I'm going to take charge again. They tell me I've nearly wore out my welcome, so far as the public is concerned—getting too refined in my manner, or something—and my name will once more appear above the shop windows."
"Have you been breaking the pledge?" I asked.
"Unfortunately, no," he replied. "Otherwise I sh'd be in a better temper than what I find myself. I've come 'ere, to have a straight talk with you, I have, Mary Weston."
"You'll probably get a straight talk in return. What do you mean by this nonsense about coming back?"
"When you took the shop over," he said, deliberately, "it was understood I was free to return and take possession whenever I felt disposed so to do."
"Have you any proof of that?"
"Got it in my inside pocket now. A letter, or note, or communication in your own handwriting. Contents of the place to be valued by some independent authority unless the figure could be agreed on between us."