was so
rapturous a thought, that when Miss Mapp, after her prolonged shopping
and with her almost empty basket, passed Mr. Hopkins standing outside
his shop on her return home again, she gave him her usual smile, though
without meeting his eye, and tried to forget how much of him she had
seen yesterday. Perhaps she might speak to him to-morrow and gradually
resume ordinary relations, for the prices at the other fish shop were as
high as the quality of the fish was low.... She told herself that there
was nothing actually immoral in the human skin, however embarrassing it
was.

* * * * *

Miss Mapp had experienced a cruel disappointment last night, though the
triumph of this morning had done something to soothe it, for Major
Benjy's window had certainly been lit up to a very late hour, and so it
was clear that he had not been able, twice in succession, to tear
himself away from his diaries, or whatever else detained him, and go to
bed at a proper time. Captain Puffin, however, had not sat up late;
indeed he must have gone to bed quite unusually early, for his window
was dark by half-past nine. To-night, again the position was reversed,
and it seemed that Major Benjy was "good" and Captain Puffin was "bad."
On the whole, then, there was cause for thankfulness, and as she added a
tin of biscuits and two jars of bovril to her prudent stores, she found
herself a conscious sceptic about those Roman roads. Diaries (perhaps)
were a little different, for egoism was a more potent force than
archaeology, and for her part she now definitely believed that Roman
roads spelt some form of drink. She was sorry to believe it, but it was
her duty to believe something of the kind, and she really did not know
what else to believe. She did not go so far as mentally to accuse him of
drunkenness, but considering the way he absorbed red-currant fool, it
was clear that he was no foe to alcohol and probably watered the Roman
roads with it. With her vivid imagination she pictured him----

Miss Mapp recalled herself from this melancholy reflection and put up
her hand just in time to save a bottle of bovril which she had put on
the top shelf in front of the sack of flour from tumbling to the ground.
With the latest additions she had made to her larder, it required
considerable ingenuity to fit all the tins and packages in, and for a
while she diverted her mind from Captain Puffin's drinking to her own
eating. But by