"No; it was Maud."
"Then I drink to Maud as a true woman and a forgiving creature!"
Andy broke into a hearty enjoying laugh. Nothing had passed which would stand a critical examination in humour, much less in wit; but Andy was very happy. He had never had such a good time, never seen so many gay and pretty women, never been so in touch with the holiday side of life. The Nun delighted him; Miss Dutton was a pleasantly acid pickle to stimulate the palate for all this rich food. Billy Foot and Harry looked at him, looked at one another, and laughed.
"They're laughing at you," said Miss Dutton in her most sardonic tone.
"I don't mind. Of course they are! I'm such an outsider."
"Worth a dozen of either of them," she remarked, with a calmly impersonal air that reduced her compliment to a mere statement of fact.
"Oh, I heard!" cried Harry. "You don't think much of us, do you, Sally?"
"I come here every night," said Miss Dutton. "Consequently I know."
The pronouncement was so confident, so conclusive, that there was nothing to do but laugh at it. They all laughed. If you came there every night, "consequently" you would know many things!
"We must eat somewhere," observed the Nun with placid resignation.