Lilian was confused by a momentary magnificent, vague vision of a man framed in the doorway of the small room. The door, drawn backwards from without, hid the vision. Then there was a cough. She realized with alarm that she had been asleep, or at least dozing, over her machine. In the fifth of a second she was wide awake and alert. "Who’s there?" she called, steadying her voice to a matter-of-fact and casual tone. The door was pushed open, and the man who had been a vision entered. "I beg your pardon," said he. "I wasn’t sure whether it was the proper thing to come in here. I looked into another room, and had a glimpse of a gentleman who seemed to be rather dormant." "This is the room to come to," said Lilian, with a prim counterfeit of a smile. "The office is open?" "Certainly." As he advanced into the room the man took off the glossy silk hat which he was wearing at the far back of his head. He had an overcoat, but carried it on his left arm. He was tall and broad--something, indeed, in the nature of a giant--with a florid, smooth face; aged perhaps thirty-three. He had a way of pinching his lips together and pressing his lower jaw against his high collar, thus making a false double chin or so; the result was to produce an effect of wise and tolerant good-humour, as of one who knew humanity and who while prepared for surprises was not going to judge us too harshly. He was in full evening-dress, and his clothes were superb. They glistened; they fitted without a crease. The vast curve of the gleaming stiff shirt-front sloped perfect in its contour; the white waistcoat was held round the stupendous form by three topaz buttons; from somewhere beneath the waistcoat a gold chain emerged and vanished somewhere into the hinterland of his person. The stout white kid gloves were thickly ridged on the backs and fitted the broad hands as well as the coat fitted the body--it was inconceivable that they had not been made to measure as everything else must have been made to measure. The man would have been overdressed had he not worn his marvellous and costly garments with absolute naturalness and simplicity. Lilian thought: "He must be a man-about-town, a clubman, the genuine article." She was impressed, secretly flustered, and very anxious to meet him as an equal on his own ground of fine manners. She divined that, having entered the room once and fairly caught her asleep, he had had the good taste to withdraw and cough and make a new entry in order to spare her modesty; and she was softly appreciative, while quite determined to demonstrate by her demeanour that she had not been asleep. She thought: "Gertie Jackson wouldn’t have known where to look, in my place." Still, despite her disdain of Gertie Jackson’s deportment, she felt herself to be terribly unproficient in the social art. "Is it anything urgent?" she asked. "Well, it is a bit urgent." He had a strong, full, pleasant voice. "Won’t you sit down?" "Thanks."