ck that had ever happened to him. When he had
lamely thanked the benefactor, he slipped away as soon as he could.
Already he could feel the crinkling of the five-pound note in his hand.
Five pounds! He had never had a suit that cost more than fifty
shillings. He slipped away. A great resolve was upon him. Shillitoe
closed at four o'clock on Saturday afternoons. There was just time. He
hurried down Trafalgar Road in a dream. And when he had climbed Duck
Bank he turned to the left, and without stopping he burst into
Shillitoe's. Not from eagerness to enter Shillitoe's, but because if he
had hesitated he might never have entered at all: he might have slunk
away to the old undistinguished tailor in Saint Luke's Square.
Shillitoe was the stylish tailor. Shillitoe made no display of goods,
scorning such paltry devices. Shillitoe had wire blinds across the
lower part of his window, and on the blinds, in gold, "Gentlemen's
tailor and outfitter. Breeches-maker." Above the blind could be seen a
few green cardboard boxes. Shillitoe made breeches for men who hunted.
Shillitoe's lowest price for a suit was notoriously four guineas.
Shillitoe's was the resort of the fashionable youth of the town and
district. It was a terrific adventure for Edwin to enter Shillitoe's.
His nervousness was painful. He seemed to have a vague idea that
Shillitoe might sneer at him. However, he went in. The shop was empty.
He closed the door, as he might have closed the door of a dentist's.
He said to himself; "Well, I'm here!" He wondered what his father would
say on hearing that he had been to Shillitoe's. And what would Clara
have said, had she been at home? Then Shillitoe in person came forward
from the cutting-out room and Shillitoe's tone and demeanour reassured
him.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

JANET LOSES HER BET.

Accident--that is to say, a chance somewhat more fortuitous than the
common hazards which we group together and call existence--pushed Edwin
into the next stage of his career. As, on one afternoon in late June,
he was turning the corner of Trafalgar Road to enter the shop, he
surprisingly encountered Charlie Orgreave, whom he had not seen for
several years. And when he saw this figure, at once fashionably and
carelessly dressed, his first thought was one of deep satisfaction that
he was wearing his new Shillitoe suit of clothes. He had scarcely worn
the suit at all, but that afternoon his father had sent him