[EDITOR. THANK YOU.]
With a sigh of content Hardrow flung himself into a chair, and seized a knife and fork. Soon a plate liberally heaped with good things was before him. Greedily he set to work, with the appetite of a man who had not tasted food for several hours….
"Dood-evening," said a voice. "Are you Father Kwistmas?"
Robert turned suddenly, and gazed in amazement at the white-robed figure in the doorway.
"Elsie," he murmured huskily.
[EDITOR. HOW DID HE KNOW? AND WHY "HUSKILY"?
AUTHOR. HE DIDN'T KNOW, HE GUESSED. AND HIS MOUTH WAS FULL.]
"Are you Father Kwistmas?" repeated Elsie.
Robert felt at his chin, and thanked Heaven again that he had let his beard grow. Almost mechanically he decided to wear the mask—in short, to dissemble.
"Yes, my dear," he said. "I just looked in to know what you would like me to bring you."