"Polly won't come with me; unkind of her, ain't it?"

"Mr. Gammon," remarked the young lady with a severe glance, "I'll thank
you not to be so familiar with my name. If you don't know any better,
let me tell you it's very ungentlemanly."

He rose, doffed his hat, bowed profoundly, and begged her pardon, in
acknowledgment of which Polly gave a toss of the head. Miss Sparkes was
neither beautiful nor stately, but her appearance had the sort of
distinction which corresponds to these qualities in the society of
Kennington Road; she filled an appreciable space in the eyes of Mr.
Gammon; her abundance of auburn hair, her high colour, her full lips
and excellent teeth, her finely-developed bust, and the freedom of her
poses (which always appeared to challenge admiration and anticipate
impertinence) had their effectiveness against a kitchen background, and
did not entirely lose it when she flitted about the stalls at the
theatre selling programmes. She was but two-and-twenty. Mr. Gammon had
reached his fortieth year. In general his tone of intimacy passed
without rebuke; at moments it had seemed not unacceptable. But Polly's
temper was notoriously uncertain, and her frankness never left people
in doubt as to the prevailing mood.

"Would you like a little ball-pup. Miss Sparkes?" he pursued in a
conciliatory tone. "A lovely little button-ear? There's a new litter
say the word, and I'll bring you one."

"Thank you. I don't care for dogs."

"No? But I'm sure you would if you kept one. Now, I have a cobby little
fox terrier--just the dog for a lady. No? Or a sweet little
black-and-tan--just turning fifteen pounds, with a lovely neck and
kissing spots on both cheeks. I wouldn't offer her to everybody."

"Very good of you," replied Miss Sparkes contemptuously.

"Why ain't you goin' to business?" asked the landlady.

"I'll tell you. We had a little difference of opinion yesterday. The
governors have been disappointed about a new line in the fancy leather;
it wouldn't go, and I told them the reason, but that wasn't good
enough. They hinted that it was my fault. Of course, I said nothing; I
never do in such cases. But--this morning I had breakfast in bed."

He spoke with eyes half closed and an odd vibration of the upper lip,
then broke into a laugh.

"You're an independent party, you are," said Mrs. Bubb, eyeing him with
admiration.

"It was always more than I could do to stand a hint of that kind. Not
so long ago I used