Philip, to please him, made one or two remarks, but she answered with monosyllables.  She had taken their measure.  They were boys, and she surmised they were students.  She had no use for them.  Dunsford noticed that a man with sandy hair and a bristly moustache, who looked like a German, was favoured with her attention whenever he came into the shop; and then it was only by calling her two or three times that they could induce her to take their order.  She used the clients whom she did not know with frigid insolence, and when she was talking to a friend was perfectly indifferent to the calls of the hurried.  She had the art of treating women who desired refreshment with just that degree of impertinence which irritated them without affording them an opportunity of complaining to the management.  One day Dunsford told him her name was Mildred.  He had heard one of the other girls in the shop address her.

“What an odious name,” said Philip.

“Why?” asked Dunsford.

“I like it.”

“It’s so pretentious.”

It chanced that on this day the German was not there, and, when she brought the tea, Philip, smiling, remarked: 

“Your friend’s not here today.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said coldly.

“I was referring to the nobleman with the sandy moustache.  Has he left you for another?”

“Some people would do better to mind their own business,” she retorted.

She left them, and, since for a minute or two there was no one to attend to, sat down and looked at the evening paper which a customer had left behind him.

“You are a fool to put her back up,” said Dunsford.

“I’m really quite indifferent to the attitude of her vertebrae,” replied Philip.

But he was piqued.  It irritated him that when he tried to be agreeable with a woman she should take offence.  When he asked for the bill, he hazarded a remark which he meant to lead further.

“Are we no longer on speaking terms?” he smiled.

“I’m here to take orders and to wait on customers.  I’ve got nothing to say to them, and I don’t want them to say anything to me.”

She put down the slip of paper on which she had marked the sum they had to pay, and walked back to the table at which she had been sitting.  Philip flushed with anger.

“That’s one in the eye for you, Carey,” said Dunsford, when they got outside.

“Ill-mannered slut,” said Philip.  “I shan’t go there again.”

His influence with Dunsford was strong enough to get him to take their tea elsewhere, and Dunsford soon found another young woman to flirt with.  But the snub which the waitress had inflicted on him rankled.  If she had treated him with civility he would have been perfectly indifferent to her; but it was obvious that she disliked him rather than otherwise, and his pride was wounded.  He could not suppress a desire to be even with her.  He was impatient with himself