Hoopdriver, after a perceptible pause.
"There weren't over many pins in Africa. They don't lie about on
the ground there." His face was now in a fine, red glow. Where
would the draper break out next? He thrust his hands into his
coat pockets, then took one out again, furtively removed the
second pin and dropped it behind him gently. It fell with a loud
'ping' on the fender. Happily she made no remark, being
preoccupied with the binding of the chair.
Mr. Hoopdriver, instead of sitting down, went up to the table and
stood against it, with his finger-tips upon the cloth. They were
keeping breakfast a tremendous time. He took up his rolled
serviette looked closely and scrutinisingly at the ring, then put
his hand under the fold of the napkin and examined the texture,
and put the thing down again. Then he had a vague impulse to
finger his hollow wisdom tooth--happily checked. He suddenly
discovered he was standing as if the table was a counter, and sat
down forthwith. He drummed with his hand on the table. He felt
dreadfully hot and self-conscious.
"Breakfast is late," said Jessie, standing up.
"Isn't it?"
Conversation was slack. Jessie wanted to know the distance to
Ringwood. Then silence fell again.
Mr. Hoopdriver, very uncomfortable and studying an easy bearing,
looked again at the breakfast things and then idly lifted the
corner of the tablecloth on the ends of his fingers, and regarded
it. "Fifteen three," he thought, privately.
"Why do you do that?" said Jessie.
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