E rid of 'em!" Most owners of property talk thus.

The Watch Committee. But he was still precisely
the same Denry, though the youngest member of the council. But now
he was being recognised

from the outside. Mr Myson's keen Manchester eye, ranging over the quarter
of a million inhabitants of the Five Towns in search of a representative individual

force, had settled
on Denry Machin. Yes, he was flattered. Mr Myson's choice threw a rose-light on all Denry's career: his wealth and its origin;
his house and stable, which were the astonishment and the admiration

of the town; his Universal Thrift Club; yea,

and his councillorship! After all, these _were_ marvels. (And possibly

the greatest marvel was the resigned presence of his mother in that wondrous house, and
the fact that she consented to emplo y
Rose Chudd, the incomparable Sappho of charwomen, for three hours every day.)
In fine, he perceived from Mr Myson's eyes that his position was
unique. And after they had chatted a little, and the conversation had deviated
momentarily from journalism to house property, he offered to display Machin House (as he had christened
it) to Mr Myson, and Mr Myson was
really impressed beyond the ordinary. Mr Myson's homage to Mrs Machin, whom they chanced on in the paradise of the bath-room, was the polished mirror of courtesy.
How Denry wished that he could behave like that when he happened to meet countesses. Then, once more in the drawing-room, they resumed the subject of newspapers. "You kn