A tall young man was fumbling in this safe.
Two women sat on customers' chairs, leaning against the crystal counter.
The young man came towards them from the safe, bearing a tray.
"How much is that goblet?" asked one of the women, raising her parasol dangerously among such fragility and pointing to one object among many in a case high up from the ground.
"That, madam?"
"Yes."
"Thirty-five pounds."
The young man disposed his tray on the counter.
It was packed with more gold watches, adding to the extraordinary glitter and shimmer of the shop.
He chose a small watch from the regiment.
"Now, this is something I can recommend," he said.
"It's made by Cuthbert Butler of Blackburn.
I can guarantee you that for five years."
He spoke as though he were the accredited representative of the Bank of England, with calm and absolute assurance.
The effect upon Sophia was mysteriously soothing.
She felt that she was among honest men.
The young man raised his head towards her with a questioning, deferential gesture.
"Can I see Mr. Boldero?" she asked.
"Mrs. Scales."
The young man's face changed instantly to a sympathetic comprehension.
"Yes, madam.
I'll fetch him at once," said he, and he disappeared behind the safe.
The two customers discussed the watch.
Then the door opened in the glass screen, and a portly, middle-aged man showed himself.
He was dressed in blue broad-cloth, with a turned- down collar and a small black tie.
His waistcoat displayed a plain but heavy gold watch-chain, and his cuff-links were of plain gold.
His eye-glasses were gold-rimmed.
He had grey hair, beard and moustache, but on the backs of his hands grew a light brown hair.
His appearance was strangely mild, dignified, and confidence- inspiring.
He was, in fact, one of the most respected tradesmen in Manchester.
He peered forward, looking over his eye-glasses, which he then took off, holding them up in the air by their short handle.
Sophia had approached him.
"Mrs. Scales?" he said, in a very quiet, very benevolent voice.
Sophia nodded.
"Please come this way." He took her hand, squeezing it commiseratingly, and drew her into the sanctum.
"I didn't expect you so soon," he said.
"I looked up th' trains, and I didn't see how you could get here before six."
Sophia explained.
He led her further, through the private office, into a sort of parlour, and asked her to sit down.
And he too sat down.
Sophia waited, as it were, like a suitor.
"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Mrs. Scales," he said, still in that mild, benevolent voice.
"He's dead?" Sophia asked.
Mr. Till Boldero nodded.
"He's dead.
I may as well tell you that he had passed away before I telegraphed.
It all happened very, very suddenly." He paused.
"Very, very suddenly!"
"Yes," said Sophia, weakly.
She was conscious of a profound sadness which was not grief, though it resembled grief.