"Anything wrong with your plump, pretty arm?" "No, sir." "Then why not do as I wish?" "Because--because it isn't right, sir." "Eh!" The man stared at Mavis, who looked him steadfastly in the eyes. In his heart of hearts, he respected her scruples; he also admired her spirit. But for "Madame the Marquise," nothing more would have been said, but this young person was destined to be an instrument of the fates that ruled Mavis's life. This chit was already resentful against the strangely beautiful, self-possessed shop-girl; Mavis's objection to the Marquis's request was in the nature of a reflection on "Madame the Marquise's" mode of life. She took her lover aside and urged him to report to the management Mavis's obstinacy; he resisted, wavered, surrendered. Mavis saw the Marquis speak to a shopman, of whom he seemed to be asking her name; he was then conducted upstairs to Mr Orgles's office, from which he issued, a few minutes later, to be bowed obsequiously downstairs by the man he had been to see. The Marquis joined "Madame the Marquise" (who, while waiting, had looked consciously self-possessed), completed his purchases, and left the shop. Mavis waited in suspense, expecting every minute to be summoned to Orgles's presence. She did not regret what she had done, but, as the hours passed and she was not sent for, she more and more feared the consequences of her behaviour. When she came upstairs from tea, she received a message saying that Mr Orgles wished to see her. Nerving herself for the interview, she walked up the circular stairs leading to his office, conscious that the eyes of the "young ladies" in the downstair shop were fixed upon her. As she went into the manager's room, she purposely left the door open. She found Orgles writing at a table; at his side were teacups, a teapot, some thinly cut bread and butter and a plate of iced cake. Mavis watched him as he worked. As her eyes fell on his stooping shoulders, camel-like face and protruding eyes, her heart was filled with loathing of this bestial old man, who made the satisfaction of his lusts the condition of needy girls' securing work, all the while careless that he was conducting them along the first stage of a downward journey, which might lead to unsuspected depths of degradation. 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!" Mr Orgles poured out the tea; as he did so, he turned his head so that his glance could fall on Mavis. "Bread and butter, or cake?" "Neither, thank you." "Then drink this tea."