She nodded her head.
“Truly, it must be bought. I myself am a merchant of it.”
“Doubtless,” said Mr Murk. “Witness your politeness to one who can afford to pay for politeness.”
She seemed an atom disconcerted.
“Well,” she said, “there is no accounting for the vagaries of the quality. And is his meal to moogsieur’s liking?”
“It is very well, indeed.”
“Tout va biend! I was in the half mind that you would wish your meat raw à l’anglaise.”
“That is not the English fashion.”
“Oh, pardon! they tear it with their hands and teeth, for I know. And sometimes it is worse.”
“How worse, then?”