loor. George Cannon would have been well served,
whatever his situation in the house, for he was one of those genial
bullies who are adored by the menials whom they alternately cajole and
terrorize. But his situation in the house was that of a god, and like a
god he was attended. He was the very creator of the house; all its life
flowed from him. Without him the organism would have ceased to exist,
and everybody in it was quite aware of this. He had fully learnt his
business. He had learnt it in the fishmarket on the beach at seven
o'clock in the morning, and in the vegetable market at eight, and in the
shops; he had learnt it in the kitchen and on the stairs while the
servants were cleaning; and he had learnt it at the dinner-table
surrounded by his customers. There was nothing that he did not know and,
except actual cooking and mending, little that he could not do. He
always impressed his customers by the statement that he had slept in
every room in the house in order to understand personally its qualities
and defects; and he could and did in fact talk to each boarder about his
room with the intimate geographical knowledge of a native. The boarders
were further flattered by the mien and appearance of this practical
housekeeper, who did not in the least resemble his kind, but had rather
the style of a slightly doggish stockbroker. To be strolling on the
King's Road in converse with George Cannon was a matter, of pride to
boarders male and female. And there was none with whom he could not talk
fluently, on any subject from cigars to ozone, according to the needs of
the particular case. Nor did he ever seem to be bored by conversations.
But sometimes, after benignantly speeding, for instance, one of the
Watchetts on her morning constitutional, he would slip down into the
basement and ejaculate, 'Cursed hag!' with a calm and natural
earnestness, which frightened Hilda, indicating as it did that he must
be capable of astounding duplicities.

He came, now, directly to the underground parlour, hat on head and ebony
stick in hand. Hilda did not even look up, but self-consciously bent a
little lower over her volume. Her relation to George Cannon in the
successful enterprise was anomalous, and yet the habit of ten months had
in practice defined it. Neither paying board nor receiving wages, she
had remained in the house apparently as Sarah Gailey's companion and
moral support; she had remained because Sarah Gailey had never been