"That’s just it, Mr. Machin. It positively never occurred to me that the Azure Conference is to be on that very day. I never thought of it until nearly four o’clock. And then I scarcely knew how to explain it to you. I really don’t know how it escaped me." Mr. Marrier’s trouble was now out, and he had declined in Edward Henry’s esteem. Mr. Marrier was afraid of him. Mr. Marrier’s list of personages was no longer a miracle of foresight; it was a mere coincidence. He doubted if Mr. Marrier was worth even his three pounds a week. Edward Henry began to feel ruthless, Napoleonic. He was capable of brushing away the whole Azure Society and New Thought movement into limbo. "You must please alter your date," said Elsie April. And she put her right elbow on the table and leaned her chin on it, and thus somehow established a domestic intimacy for the three amid all the blare and notoriety of the vast tea-room. "Oh, but I can’t!" he said easily, familiarly. It was her occasional "artichoke" manner that had justified him in assuming this tone. "I can’t!" he repeated. "I’ve told Sir John I can’t possibly be ready any earlier, and on the day after he’ll almost certainly be on his way to Marseilles. Besides, I don’t _want_ to alter my date. My date is in the papers by this time." "You’ve already done quite enough harm to the movement as it is," said Elsie April stoutly but ravishingly. "Me--harm to the movement?" "Haven’t you stopped the building of our church?" "Oh! So you know Mr. Wrissell?" "Very well indeed." "Anybody else would have done the same in my place," Edward Henry defended himself. "Your cousin, Miss Euclid, would have done it, and Marrier here was in the affair with her." "Ah!" exclaimed Elsie April. "But we didn’t belong to the movement then! We didn’t know.... Come now, Mr. Machin. Sir John Pilgrim will of course be a great show. But even if you’ve got him and manage to stick to him, we should beat you. You’ll never get the audience you want if you don’t change from Wednesday week. After all, the number of people who count in London is very small. And we’ve got nearly all of them. You’ve no idea--" "I won’t change from Wednesday week," said Edward Henry. This defiance of her put him into an extremely agitated felicity. "Now, my dear Mr. Machin--" He was actually aware of the charm she was exerting, and yet he discovered that he could easily withstand it. "Now, my dear Miss April, please don’t try to take advantage of your beauty!" She sat up. She was apparently measuring herself and him. "Then you won’t change the day, truly?" Her urbanity was in no wise impaired. "I won’t," he laughed lightly. "I dare say you aren’t used to people like me, Miss April." (She might get the better of Seven Sachs, but not of him, Edward Henry Machin from the Five Towns!)