Machin came leaping and bounding down the stairs as if by magic.  She had heard his voice, and her joy at his entry into his abode caused her to forget her parlour-maidenhood and to exhibit a humanity which pained Mr. Brool, who had been brought up in the strictest traditions of flunkeyism.  Her joy pleased Mr. Prohack and he felt better.

“Good morning, Machin,” said he, quite blithely.  “I just want to see how things have been fixed up in my rooms.”  He had not the least notion where or what his rooms were in the vast pile.

“Yes, sir,” Machin responded eagerly, delighted that Mr. Prohack was making to herself, as an old friend, an appeal which he ought to have made to the butler.  Mr. Prohack, guided by the prancing Machin, discovered that, in addition to a study, he had a bedroom and a dressing-room and a share in Eve’s bath-room.  The dressing-room had a most agreeable aspect.  Machin opened a huge and magnificent wardrobe, and in drawer after drawer displayed his new hosiery marvellously arranged, and in other portions of the wardrobe his new suits and hats and boots.  The whole made a wondrous spectacle.

“And who did all this?” he demanded.

“Madam, sir.  But Miss Warburton came to help her at nine this morning, and I helped too.  Miss Warburton has put the lists in your study, sir.”

“Thank you, Machin.  It’s all very nice.”  He was touched.  The thought of all these women toiling in secret to please him was exceedingly sweet.  It was not as though he had issued any requests.  No!  They did what they did from enthusiasm, unknown to him.

“Wait a second,” he stopped Machin, who was leaving him.  “Which floor did you say my study is on?”

She led him to his study.  An enormous desk, and in the middle of it a little pile of papers crushed by a block of crystal!  The papers were all bills.  The amounts of them alarmed him momentarily, but that was only because he could not continuously and effectively remember that he had over three hundred pounds a week coming in.  Still, the bills did somewhat dash him, and he left them without getting to the bottom of the pile.  He thought he would voyage through the house, but he got no further than his wife’s boudoir.  The boudoir also had an enormous desk, and on it also was a pile of papers.  He offended the marital code by picking up the first one, which read as follows:—­“Madam.  We beg to enclose as requested estimate for buffet refreshments for one hundred and fifty persons, and hire of one hundred gilt cane chairs and bringing and taking away same.  Trusting to be honoured with your commands—­” This document did more than alarm him; it shook him.  Clearly Eve was planning a great reception.  Even to attend a reception was torture to him, always had been; but to be the host at a reception...!  No, his mind refused to contemplate a prospect so appalling.  Surely Eve ought to have consulted him before beginning to plan a reception.  Why a reception?  He glimpsed matters that might be even worse than a reception.  And this was the same woman who had so touchingly arranged his clothes.