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"
In the centre of Africa--up country, that is--one learns to value
pins," said Mr. 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.
210
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