"Do you wish anything else, sir?" she asked, still in a whisper, and keeping her back to Devlin.
"Yes, my charming landlady, yes," replied Devlin, "A large pot of your exquisite tea. Fly!"
"Make it, Fanny, and bring it up," I said.
She flew, and returned with the steaming pot. Surely never was tea so quickly prepared before. The pot, milk, sugar, and two cups and saucers were on a tray, which, without raising her eyes, she placed before me.
"Here, here," cried Devlin, tapping the table. "Before me, my dear creature! I am the host on this occasion."
She slid the tray over to him, and he made a motion as if he were about to place his hand on her.
"If you lay a finger on me," she exclaimed, beating a hasty retreat from the table, "I'll scream the house down!"
"Leave the room," I said sternly; "and call us at seven in the morning."
"We shall be here, my dear creature," added Devlin. "You will find both of us safe and sound, ready to do justice to your excellent cooking. I have a premonition of a fine appetite for breakfast; cook me an extra rasher."
I saw in Fanny's eyes a desire to say a word to me alone. Devlin saw it too.