"Yes, ma'am, and he pulls out a little magnifying-glass for her to look through. It may be a religious way of courting, but I say it's disgusting." "Really, Mr Gemp!" said Mrs Pinet, bridling. "Ay, it is, ma'am. I like things open and above board--a young man giving a young woman his arm, and taking her out for a walk reg'lar, and not going out in the lanes, and keeping about a yard apart." "But do they, Mr Gemp?" "Yes, just to make people think there's nothing going on. But there, ma'am, I must be off. You mustn't keep me. I can't stop talking here." "Well, really, Mr Gemp!" said his hearer, bridling again, and resenting the idea that she had detained him. "Yes, I must go indeed. I say, though, seen any more of that chap?" "Chap?--what chap, Mr Gemp?" "Come now, you know what I mean. That shack: that ragged, shabby fellow--him as come to see Mr Hallam the other day?" "Oh, the poor fellow that Mr Hallam helped?" "To be sure--him. Been here again?" said Gemp, making a rasping noise with a rough finger on his beard. "No, Mr Gemp." "No! Well, I suppose not. I haven't seen him myself. Mornin'; can't stop talking here." Mr Gemp concluded his gossips invariably in this mode, as if he resented being kept from business, which consisted in going to tell his tale again. Mrs Pinet was left to pick a few withering leaves from her geraniums, a floricultural act which she performed rather mechanically, for her mind was a good deal occupied by Gemp's disclosure. "They'd make a very nice pair, that they would," she said thoughtfully; "and how would it be managed, I wonder? He couldn't marry himself, of course, and--oh, Mr Thickens, how you did make me jump!" "Jump! Didn't see you jump, Mrs Pinet," said the clerk, smiling sadly, as if he thought Mrs Pinet's banking account was lower than it should be. "Well, bless the man, you know what I mean. Stealing up so quietly, like a robber or thief in the night." "Oh! Not come to steal, but to beg." "Beg, Mr Thickens? What, a subscription for something?" "No. I was coming by. Mr Hallam wants the book on his shelf, `Brown's Investor.'" "Oh, I see. Come in, Mr Thickens!" she exclaimed warmly. "I'll get the book." "Won't come in, thank you." "Now do, Mr Thickens, and have a glass of wine and a bit of cake." The quiet, dry-looking clerk shook his head and smiled. "Plenty of gossips in the town, Mrs Pinet, without my joining the ranks." "Now that's unkind, Mr Thickens. I only wanted to ask you if you thought it true that Mr Bayle is going to marry Miss Millicent Luttrell; Mr Gemp says he is." "Divide what Gemp says by five, subtract half, and the remainder may be correct, ma'am." "Then it isn't true?" "I don't know, ma'am." "Oh, what a tiresome, close old bank-safe of a man you are, Mr Thickens! Just like your cupboard in the bank." "Where I want to be, Mrs Pinet, if you will get me the book."