MISS   MATFIELD   WONDERS	235
"You don't mean Mr. Dirty—Dersy—what's it?1' Miss
Ansdell asked.
"No. He's rather sloppy, too. Not a bit amusing.
But there's a man who's just come lately, Golspie—"
"I know. But you said he was awful"
"So he is," Miss Matfield admitted hastily. "I told
you about him, didn't I? I don't say I like him. He's
rather a brute, and looks it, or at any rate looks weird.
But he has got some character, and could do something
without asking everybody's permission. That's all I
meant. Of course, from every other point of view, even
poor Norman Birtley, who really isn't so bad, is worth
fifty of him. Imagine going out to dinner with Golspie!"
And she laughed aloud at the thought.
They talked of other things, yawned, stared, talked
again, more idly, yawned again, and then went to bed
3
Miss matfield awoke next morning with a vague feel-
ing that something pleasant and rather exciting was
about to happen. Norman Birtley. So that was it. She
could think of nothing else, and was rather disappointed,
slightly cross with herself, when it all dwindled to
Norman. That showed the sort of existence she led,
these days. There had been a time when Norman
Birtley was only a joke. When he became serious she
had brushed him aside. After that, when he turned into
the attentive admirer, popping up at odd intervals and
popping down again wistfully, it is true she had liked
him better. But now, the very thought of an evening
with him could bring her out of sleep in a vague sense