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The light was subdued, the glossy cream parcels seemed
luminous, the counters were of dark brown wood. All was quiet and very
homely. Mrs. Morel took two steps forward, then waited. Paul stood
behind her. She had on her Sunday bonnet and a black veil; he wore a
boy's broad white collar and a Norfolk suit.
One of the clerks looked up. He was thin and tall, with a small face.
His way of looking was alert. Then he glanced round to the other end of
the room, where was a glass office. And then he came forward. He did
not say anything, but leaned in a gentle, inquiring fashion towards Mrs.
Morel.
"Can I see Mr. Jordan?" she asked.
"I'll fetch him," answered the young man.
He went down to the glass office. A red-faced, white-whiskered old man
looked up. He reminded Paul of a pomeranian dog. Then the same little
man came up the room. He had short legs, was rather stout, and wore
an alpaca jacket. So, with one ear up, as it were, he came stoutly and
inquiringly down the room.
"Good-morning!" he said, hesitating before Mrs.


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