“I’m going to carry the pots,” said Dolly. “It’s awfully hot, Mr. Carter—and look at my poor hands!”
She held them out to me.
“Lunch!” said I.
“Pots!” said Dolly, with infinite firmness.
The window of the dining room opened and Archie put his head out.
“Come along, you two,” he called. “Everything’s getting cold.”
Dolly turned an appealing glance on me.
“How obstinate you are!” she said. “You know perfectly well—”
I began to walk towards the house.
“I’m going in to lunch,” said I.