He received it in placid silence; apparently it did not seem to him to be a matter on which he was called to comment either favourably or unfavourably.
Pollyooly moved about the world on very light, dancing feet; and as soon as she had washed up the breakfast things she packed their small wardrobes in the brown tin box.

Then the Honourable John Ruffin, having finished his cigar and _Morning Post_, summoned her to help him pack.
For a while she observed his fashion of doing so with pain and dismay.
He put his clothes in the portmanteau anyhow and crushed them firmly down.

Sometimes he stood on them, quietly.
Standing painfully now on one leg and now on the other, she endured the sight for several minutes; then she said: "Oh please, sir: you'd better let me do it." "Why?
What's wrong with my way of doing it ?" said the Honourable John Ruffin, looking down at the confused mess with some surprise.
"Look how you're crumpling your shirts, sir," said Pollyooly.
"I thought that that was what trunks and portmanteaux were for.

But have it your own way.

Deal with it yourself," said the Honourable John Ruffin with airy indifference.
He lighted another cigar and watched Pollyooly take the clothes out of the portmanteau and replace them neatly with some regard to their shape and the space to be filled, finding room for a dozen things which he had been forced to leave out.