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She itched to pluck him by the beard, to tell him what she thought of him. "Miss Keeves!" said Mr Orgles presently. "Yes, sir." "Don't say 'sir." Mavis started in surprise. Mr Orgles put down his pen. "We're going to have a friendly little chat," said the man. "Let me offer you some tea." "No, thank you." "Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!"
As he still remained silent, she presently found courage to ask: "Will you take me?" He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers, fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little cry; she rose to go. "Don't go," said a voice beside her. Mr Orgles was standing quite near. "Do you badly want a place?" "Very badly." "H'm!"
Her faith in human justice had been much disturbed; she feared that Orgles, moved with a desire for vengeance, would represent her as the aggressor, himself as the victim of an unprovoked assault: any moment she feared to find herself in the clutches of the law.
As she stood in the shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to stare continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, when a message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, Mr Orgles would see her.
She was conscious of the man saying something about her consulting Mrs Goss before thinking of going there; but she did not give this aspect of the matter another moment's thought. "What name shall I ask for?" asked Mavis. "Mr Orgles, if you go." "Thank you so much. May I mention your name?" "If you decide to go there, certainly." Mavis thanked him and was gone.
It seemed to her as if the great city were exclusively peopled with Mr. Orgles', Mrs Hamiltons, Miss Ewers, and their like. Ignorant of London's kindness, she had only thought for its wickedness.
Mavis flushed and moved away; at any other time she would have hotly resented his conduct, but today she was desperately anxious to get employment, Mr Orgles took courage from her half-heartedness. "Let me show you," he cried. "Show me what?" she asked, perplexed. "How to live: how to enjoy life: how to be happy.
Now that the sun of cold reason, which reaches its zenith in the early morning, illumined the crowded events of yesterday, Mavis was concerned for the consequences of the violence she had offered Orgles.
"Excuse me," said Mr Orgles, as he took what seemed to be a tiny piece of fluff from the skirt of her coat. "You must have got it coming upstairs." "Do you think you would speak for me?" Mavis found words to ask. Mr Orgles's eyes again rested on Mavis, as he said: "It depends on you." "On me?" "You say you have never been out in the world before?" "Not really in the world." "I am sorry."
Often, while busily engaged in serving customers or in hearing and seeing things which, before she came to "Dawes'," she would never have believed to be possible, she had a strong suspicion that old Orgles was watching her from the top of a flight of stairs or the tiny window in his room; it seemed that he was a wary old spider, she a fly, and that he was biding his time.
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