roads, of limitless unchecked hours, of infinite time to look about
him, vanished like a thing enchanted. He was suddenly back in the hard
old economic world, that exacts work, that limits range, that
discourages phrasing and dispels laughter. He saw Wood Street and its
fearful suspenses yawning beneath his feet.

And also he had promised to marry Miriam, and on the whole rather
wanted to.

He was distraught at supper. Afterwards, when Mrs. Johnson had gone to
bed with a slight headache, he opened a conversation with Johnson.

"It's about time, O' Man, I saw about doing something," he said.
"Riding about and looking at shops, all very debonnairious, O' Man,
but it's time I took one for keeps."

"What did I tell you?" said Johnson.

"How do you think that corner shop of yours will figure out?" Mr.
Polly asked.

"You're really meaning it?"

"If it's a practable proposition, O' Man. Assuming it's practable.
What's your idea of the figures?"

Johnson went to the chiffonier, got out a letter and tore off the back
sheet. "Let's figure it out," he said with solemn satisfaction. "Let's
see the lowest you could do it on."