That was from the first minute how she thought of it.  There were again other persons with whom she was occupied, and again the situation could only be expressed by their silence.  It was expressed, of a truth, in a larger phrase than ever yet, for her eyes now spoke to him with a kind of supplication.  “Be quiet, be quiet!” they pleaded; and they saw his own reply:  “I’ll do whatever you say; I won’t even look at you—­see, see!” They kept conveying thus, with the friendliest liberality, that they wouldn’t look, quite positively wouldn’t.  What she was to see was that he hovered at the other end of the counter, Mr. Buckton’s end, and surrendered himself again to that frustration.  It quickly proved so great indeed that what she was to see further was how he turned away before he was attended to, and hung off, waiting, smoking, looking about the shop; how he went over to Mr. Cocker’s own counter and appeared to price things, gave in fact presently two or three orders and put down money, stood there a long time with his back to her, considerately abstaining from any glance round to see if she were free.  It at last came to pass in this way that he had remained in the shop longer than she had ever yet known to do, and that, nevertheless, when he did turn about she could see him time himself—­she was freshly taken up—­and cross straight to her postal subordinate, whom some one else had released.  He had in his hand all this while neither letters nor telegrams, and now that he was close to her—­for she was close to the counter-clerk—­it brought her heart into her mouth merely to see him look at her neighbour and open his lips.  She was too nervous to bear it.  He asked for a Post-Office Guide, and the young man whipped out a new one; whereupon he said he wished not to purchase, but only to consult one a moment; with which, the copy kept on loan being produced, he once more wandered off.

What was he doing to her?  What did he want of her?  Well, it was just the aggravation of his “See here!” She felt at this moment strangely and portentously afraid of him—­had in her ears the hum of a sense that, should it come to that kind of tension, she must fly on the spot to Chalk Farm.  Mixed with her dread and with her reflexion was the idea that, if he wanted her so much as he seemed to show, it might be after all simply to do for him the “anything” she had promised, the “everything” she had thought it so fine to bring out to Mr. Mudge.  He might want her to help him, might have some particular appeal; though indeed his manner didn’t denote that—­denoted on the contrary an embarrassment, an indecision, something of a desire not so much to be helped as to be treated rather more nicely than she had treated him the other time.  Yes, he considered quite probably that he had help rather to offer than to ask for.  Still, none the less, when he again saw her free he continued to keep away from her; when he came back with his thumbed Guide it was Mr. Buckton he caught—­it was from Mr. Buckton he obtained half-a-crown’s-worth of stamps.