Then the same little man came up the room.

He had short legs, was rather stout, and wore an alpaca jacket.

So, with one ear up, as it were, he came stoutly and inquiringly down the room.
"Good-morning!" he said, hesitating before Mrs.Morel, in doubt as to whether she were a customer or not.
"Good-morning.

I came with my son, Paul Morel.

You asked him to call this morning." "Come this way," said Mr.Jordan, in a rather snappy little manner intended to be businesslike.
They followed the manufacturer into a grubby little room, upholstered in black American leather, glossy with the rubbing of many customers.
On the table was a pile of trusses, yellow wash-leather hoops tangled together.