"No; I had a fancy for a solitary cup."
"Oh, solitary! You think I didn't see you, lolling with your arms on that girl's table and talking to her—looking as if you had been sitting there for hours."
"I really hadn't been sitting there for hours; I have not been in the room five minutes."
"In that case, you are evidently very much at home here. Now, Tony dear, it doesn't do, you know."
"What doesn't do? What iniquity am I accused of? Maude brings me here, and gives me the taste for tea; and I find the Liddons keeping the place, and take that interest in the fact which we all do, and are in duty bound to do; and I talk a little to that poor crippled child—I can't talk to the other one, because she's always too busy; and here you look at me as if I were a shameless profligate——"
"Hush—sh! don't talk so loud. Some tea, dear, please,"—to Jenny, who approached to serve her patroness. "There's no real harm in your coming here by yourself, of course—you don't suppose I am not quite aware of that; but it's the look of the thing, Tony. A man alone does not look well in a place like this."
"I don't think I ever thought of how I looked."
"You know what I mean. We come here, father and Maude and I, to help the place, and because we do want tea, Maude and I, at any rate——"
"So do I. I want tea occasionally, as well as other mortals sweltering in the city dust; and I'm sure I want to help the place."
"Don't be provoking, Tony. You never want tea—it's nonsense. When you are thirsty you want whisky and soda. And as for helping the place, you do exactly the other thing—and you must know it."