"
"So I saw," said Mr. Prince. "I congratulate you."
They knew a good deal about him--where he lived, the statistics of his
family, and so on. He picked up his hat.
"I can't tell you how I appreciate your coming," said Marguerite, gazing
straight into his eyes.
"Rather!" said Mr. Prince.
They were profoundly flattered by the visit of this Bird-of-paradise.
But they did not urge him to stay longer.
As he was leaving, the door already open, George noticed a half-finished
book-cover design on a table.
"So you're still doing these binding designs!" He stopped to examine.
Husband and wife, always more interested in their own affairs than in
other people's, responded willingly to his curiosity. George praised,
and his praise was greatly esteemed. Mr. Prince talked about the changes
in trade bindings, which were all for the worse. The bright spot was
that Marguerite's price for a design had risen to twenty-five shillings.
This improvement was evidently a source of genuine satisfaction to them.
To George it seemed pathetic that a rise, after vicissitudes, of four
shillings in fourteen years should be capable of causing them so much
joy. He and they lived in absolutely different worlds.
"This is the last I shall let her do for a long time," observed Mr.
Prince. "I shouldn't have let her do this one, but the doctor, who's a
friend of ours, said there wouldn't be any harm, and of course it's
always advisable to break a connexion as little as possible.
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