_Our_ POLICEMAN, _as he has told us under the arches, was watching her through the keyhole, but his first impressions have been so coloured by subsequent events that it is questionable whether they would be accepted in any court of law. Is prepared to depose that to the best of his recollection, they were unfavourable. Does not imply by unfavourable any aspersion on her personal appearance. Would accept the phrase ‘far from striking’ as summing up her first appearance. Would no longer accept the phrase. Had put her down as being a grown woman, but not sufficiently grown. Thought her hair looked to be run up her finger. Did not like this way of doing the hair. Could not honestly say that she seemed even then to be an ordinary slavey of the areas. She was dressed as one, but was suspiciously clean. On the other hand, she had the genuine hungry look. Among more disquieting features noticed a sort of refinement in her voice and manner, which was characteristic of the criminal classes. Knew now that this was caused by the reading of fairy tales and the thinking of noble thoughts. Noted speedily that she was a domineering character who talked sixteen to the dozen, and at such times reminded him of funny old ladies. Was much struck by her eyes, which seemed to suggest that she was all burning inside. This impression was strengthened later when he touched her hands. Felt at once the curious ‘homeliness’ of her, as commented on by_ MR. BODIE, _but could swear on oath that this had not at once made him think of Badgery. Could recall not the slightest symptoms of love at first sight. On the contrary, listened carefully to the conversation between her and_ MR. BODIE _and formed a stern conclusion about her. Believed that this was all he could say about his first impression._ CINDERELLA (_breathlessly_). Did you rang, sir? BODIE (_ashamed_). Did I? I did—but—I—I don’t know why. If you’re a good servant, you ought to know why. (_The cigarette, disgusted with him, falls from his mouth; and his little servant flings up her hands to heaven._) CINDERELLA (_taking possession of him_). There you go again! Fifty years have you been at it, and you can’t hold a seegarette in your mouth _yet_! (_She sternly produces the turpentine_.) BODIE (_in sudden alarm_). I won’t be brushed. I will not be scraped. CINDERELLA (_twisting him round_). Just look at that tobaccy ash! And I cleaned you up so pretty before luncheon. BODIE. I will _not_ be cleaned again. CINDERELLA (_in her element_). Keep still. (_She brushes, scrapes, and turpentines him. In the glory of this she tosses her head at the Venus._) I gave Mrs. Bodie a good wipe down this morning with soap and water. BODIE (_indignant_). That is a little too much. You know quite well I allow no one to touch her.