She opened the folding-doors, and there was a fine gentleman obstructing the entrance of a somber, rusty figure, with a portfolio and a manuscript under each arm.
The fine gentleman was Colander.

The seedy personage was the eternal Triplet, come to make hay with his five-foot rule while the sun shone.
Colander had opened the door to him, and he had shot into the hall.

The major-domo obstructed the farther entrance of such a coat.
"I tell you my master is not at home," remonstrated the major-domo.
"How can you say so," cried Mrs.Vane, in surprise, "when you know he is in the garden ?" "Simpleton!" thought Colander.
"Show the gentleman in." "Gentleman!" muttered Colander.
Triplet thanked her for her condescension; he would wait for Mr.Vane in the hall.

"I came by appointment, madam; this is the only excuse for the importunity you have just witnessed." Hearing this, Mrs.Vane dismissed Colander to inform his master.
Colander bowed loftily, and walked into the servants' hall without deigning to take the last proposition into consideration.
"Come in here, sir," said Mabel; "Mr.Vane will come as soon as he can leave his company." Triplet entered in a series of obsequious jerks.
"Sit down and rest you, sir." And Mrs.Vane seated herself at the table, and motioned with her white hand to Triplet to sit beside her.
Triplet bowed, and sat on the edge of a chair, and smirked and dropped his portfolio, and instantly begged Mrs.Vane's pardon; in taking it up, he let fall his manuscript, and was again confused; but in the middle of some superfluous and absurd excuse his eye fell on the haunch; it straightway dilated to an enormous size, and he became suddenly silent and absorbed in contemplation.
"You look sadly tired, sir." "Why, yes, madam.

It is a long way from Lambeth Walk, and it is passing hot, madam." He took his handkerchief out, and was about to wipe his brow, but returned it hastily to his pocket.