Having briefly, therefore, also in accordance with his usual custom, expressed his disgust at this want of confidence between master and man, Mr.James returned to his paste and scissors.
About a quarter past six the shop door was cautiously opened, and a head appeared, which looked round stealthily.

Seeing nobody about except Mr.James, the head nodded, and presently followed by its body, stepped into the shop.
"Where's the admiral, Foxy ?" asked the caller.
"Guv'nor's upstairs, Mr.Joseph, taking of his tea with Miss Iris," replied Mr.James, not at all offended by the allusion to his craftiness.

Who should resemble the fox if not the second-hand bookseller?
In no trade, perhaps, can the truly admirable qualities of that animal--his patience, his subtlety and craft, his pertinacity, his sagacity--be illustrated more to advantage.

Mr.James felt a glow of virtue--would that he could grow daily and hourly, and more and more toward the perfect fox.

Then, indeed, and not till then would he be able to live truly up to his second-hand books.
"Having tea with Iris; well--" The speaker looked as if it required some effort to receive this statement with resignation.
"He always does at six o'clock.