“Not that one,” he said, opening a violet envelope. “That’s from a dear thing at Skipton. Worships the very ground I walk on.” The letter in question fell on the floor. Erb picked it up and, in doing so, could not help noticing that it began: “Sir, unless you forward two and eight by return, the parcel of laundry will be sold without—” “Here it is,” cried Railton. “‘Mr. So-and-so thanks Mr. Lawrence Railton for his note, and regrets that the arrangements for the forthcoming production are complete.’” “Regrets, you see, mark that! A post earlier, and evidently he would have—don’t drown it, my dear chap!” “In regard,” said Erb, putting down the water-bottle, “to Miss Rosalind Danks.” “I hadn’t finished what I was saying.” “Didn’t mean you should. Let’s drop your personal grievances for a bit. Why didn’t you come round and see her before she left?” “Now that,” said Railton, leaning an elbow on the counter, “goes straight to the very crux of the question. That’s just where I wanted to carry you. I hate a man who wastes time on preliminaries. My idea always is that if you’ve got a thing to say, say it!” “Well then, say it!” “My position,” said Railton, importantly, “is this. I have, as I think I said, the artistic temperament. I am all emotion, all sentiment, all heart! It may be a virtue, it may be a defect; I won’t go into that. The point is that little Rosie is the exact opposite. I confess that I thought at one time that we might be well suited to each other, but I see now that I made a mistake. Doesn’t often happen, but I did make a mistake there, and the unfortunate part of the business is that I—in a kind of way, don’t you know—promised to marry her.” “So I understood. When does the affair come off?” “My dear old chap,” said Railton, with effusive confidence, “the affair is off. But you know what women are, and I find it rather difficult—for, mind you, I am above all things a man of honour—I find it rather difficult to write to her and tell her so. Some men wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Some men have no delicacy. But what I thought was this: Do you want to earn a couple of pounds?” “Go on!” said Erb, quietly. “Assuming that you _do_ want to earn a couple of pounds, this is where you come in. You, I gain, have a certain admiration for her. Now, if you can take her off my hands so that I can get out of the engagement with dignity, I am prepared to give you, in writing mind, a promise to pay—” Mr. Railton went down swiftly on the floor. The other people hurried up. “You dare strike me!” he cried complainingly, as he rose his handkerchief to his face. “Do it again, that’s all.” He went down again with the same unexpectedness as before. Three men stood round Erb, who looked quietly at his own clenched fist; the knuckles had a slight abrasion. “Want any more?” he asked.