Almost unconsciously he got up and surveyed himself in the glass.
"There's no accounting for tastes," he said to himself, in modest explanation.
His mind still dwelt on the subject as he stood in the hall later on in the morning, brushing his hat, preparatory to taking his usual walk.
Mrs.Chalk, upstairs listening, thought that he would never have finished, and drew her own conclusions.
With the air of a man whose time hangs upon his hands Mr.Chalk sauntered slowly through the narrow by-ways of Binchester.

He read all the notices pasted on the door of the Town Hall and bought some stamps at the post-office, but the morning dragged slowly, and he bent his steps at last in the direction of Tredgold's office, in the faint hope of a little conversation.
To his surprise, Mr.Tredgold senior was in an unusually affable mood.
He pushed his papers aside at once, and, motioning his visitor to a chair, greeted him with much heartiness.
"Just the man I wanted to see," he said, cheerfully.

"I want you to come round to my place at eight o'clock to-night.

I've just seen Stobell, and he's coming too." "I will if I can," said Mr.Chalk.
"You must come," said the other, seriously.

"It's business." "Business!" said Mr.Chalk.