“I didn’t try,” said Mr. Mott, crisply.  “Good night.”

By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly facetious over the events of the night.  The mood passed at the same moment that Mr. Hurst passed the window.

“Better have him in and get it over,” he said, irritably.

Miss Garland shuddered.

“Never!” she said, firmly.  “He’d be down on his knees.  It would be too painful.  You don’t know him.”

“Don’t want to,” said Mr. Mott.

He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe, proposed a walk.  The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past the window again, served to illustrate Miss Garland’s refusal.

“I’ll go out and see him,” said Mr. Mott, starting up.  “Are you going to be a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home?  It’s preposterous!”

He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who was walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder.  “Morning!” said Mr. Mott, fiercely.  “Good morning,” said the other.

“Now, look here,” said Mr. Mott.  “This has gone far enough, and I won’t have any more of it.  Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, chivvying a young lady that doesn’t want you.  Haven’t you got any pride?”

“No,” said the young man, “not where she is concerned.”

“I don’t believe you have,” said the other, regarding him, “and I expect that’s where the trouble is.  Did she ever have reason to think you were looking after any other girls?”

“Never, I swear it,” said Mr. Hurst, eagerly.

“Just so,” said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod.  “That’s where you made a mistake.  She was too sure of you; it was too easy.  No excitement.  Girls like a man that other girls want; they don’t want a turtle-dove in fancy trousers.”

Mr. Hurst coughed.

“And they like a determined man,” continued Miss Garland’s uncle.  “Why, in my young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it, d’you think I’d have gone out of the house without seeing her?  I might have been put out—­by half-a-dozen—­but I’d have taken the mantelpiece and a few other things with me.  And you are bigger than I am.”

“We aren’t all made the same,” said Mr. Hurst, feebly.

“No, we’re not,” said Mr. Mott.  “I’m not blaming you; in a way, I’m sorry for you.  If you’re not born with a high spirit, nothing’ll give it to you.”

“It might be learnt,” said Mr. Hurst.  Mr. Mott laughed.

“High spirits are born, not made,” he said.  “The best thing you can do is to go and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you out.”

Mr. Hurst shook his head.

“There’s no other girl for me,” he said, miserably.  “And everything seemed to be going so well.  We’ve been buying things for the house for the last six months, and I’ve just got a good rise in my screw.”