Mr. Nugent turned to a broken cane-chair which stood by the counter, and, after applying severe tests, regardless of the lady's feelings, sat down upon it and gave a sigh of relief.
“I've walked from London,” he said, in explanation. “I could sit here for hours.”
“Look here——” began the indignant Miss Kybird.
“Only people would be sure to couple our names together,” continued Mr. Nugent, mournfully.
“When a handsome young man and a good-looking girl——”
“Do you want to buy anything or not?” demanded Miss Kybird, with an impatient toss of her head.
“No,” said Jack, “I want to sell.”
“You've come to the wrong shop, then,” said Miss Kybird; “the warehouse is full of rubbish now.”
The other turned in his chair and looked hard at the window. “So it is,” he assented. “It's a good job I've brought you something decent to put there.”
He felt in his pockets and, producing a silver-mounted briar-pipe, a battered watch, a knife, and a few other small articles, deposited them with reverent care upon the counter.