He knew that she despised him--that bullying and brow-beating would have no influence with her, that his ready badinage would not avail, and that coaxing and soft words would be equally useless.

In her presence, he was shorn of all his weapons; and he never felt so defenseless and ill at ease in his life.
As Miss Butterworth did not seem inclined to begin conversation, Mr.
Belcher hem'd and haw'd with affected nonchalance, and said: "Ah!--to--what am I indebted for this visit.

Miss--ah--Butterworth ?" "I'm thinking!" she replied sharply, looking into the fire, and pressing her lips together.
There was nothing to be said to this, so Mr.Belcher looked doggedly at her, and waited.
"I'm thinking of a man, and-he-was-a-man-every-inch-of-him, if there ever was one, and a gentleman too, if-I-know-what-a-gentleman-is, who came to this town ten years ago, from-nobody-knows-where; with a wife that was an angel, if-there-is-any-such-thing-as-an-angel." Here Miss Butterworth paused.

She had laid her foundation, and proceeded at her leisure.
"He knew more than any man in Sevenoaks, but he didn't know how to take care of himself," she went on.

"He was the most ingenious creature God ever made, I do think, and his name was Paul Benedict." Mr.Belcher grew pale and fidgeted in his chair.
"And his name was Paul Benedict.