Mr Orgles brought a cup of tea to where Mavis was standing. On his way, he closed the door that she had left open. He placed the tea on a table beside her and took up a piece of bread and butter. "No, thank you," said Mavis again. "What?" He had taken a large bite out of his piece of bread and butter. He stared at the girl in open-mouthed surprise. Mavis was fascinated by the bite of food in his mouth and the tooth-marks in the piece of bread and butter from which it had been torn. "Now we'll have a cosy little chat about this most unfortunate business." Here Mr Orgles noisily sucked up a mouthful of tea. Mavis shivered with disgust as she watched him churn the mixture of food and drink in his mouth. "Won't you sit down?" he asked presently. "I prefer to stand." "Now then!" Here he joyously rubbed his hands. "Two months ago, when we had a little talk, you were a foolish, ignorant little girl. Perhaps we've learned sense since then, eh?" Mavis did not reply. The man went on: "Although a proud little girl, I don't mind telling you I've had my eye on you, that I've watched you often and that I've great hopes of advancing you in life. Eh!" Here he turned his head so that his eyes leered at her. Mavis repressed an inclination to throw the teapot at his head. He went on: "To-day, we made a mistake; we offended a rich and important customer. That would be a serious matter for you if I reported it, but, as I gather, you're now a sensible little girl, you may make it worth my while to save you." Mavis bit her lip. "What if you're still a little fool? You will get the sack; and girls from 'Dawes'' always find it hard to get another job. You will wear yourself out trapesing about after a 'shop,' and by and by you will starve and rot and die." Mavis trembled with anger. The man went on talking. His words were no longer coherent, but the phrases "make you manageress"--"four pounds a week"--"share the expenses of a little flat together," fell on her ear. "Say no more," Mavis was able to cry at last. The next moment, Mavis felt the man's arms about her, his hot, gasping breath on her cheek, his beard brushing against her mouth, in his efforts to kiss her. The attack took her by surprise. Directly she was able to recover herself, she clawed the fingers of her left hand into his face and forced his head away from her till she held it at arm's length. Orgles's head was now upon one side, so that one of his eyes was able to glare hungrily at her; his big nostrils were dilating with the violence of his passion. Mavis trembled with a fierce, resentful rage. "Your answer: your answer: your answer?" gasped the man huskily.