“What a wretched fire you keep, my love! Ring for more coals! Is dinner ready? Have I kept you waiting?”
“A little, sir. I should have been very uneasy about you if one of our neighbors had not kindly assured me of your safety.”
Mr. Heriton lifted his eyebrows.
“Rather impertinent, I think, of such people to trouble themselves about our affairs! We must get out of this miserable hole, my love, as soon as we can. It is scarcely respectable.”
He took his seat at the table without waiting for a reply, and began uncovering the dishes.
“Nothing but a sole and hashed mutton! Do you call this a dinner?”
Florence colored painfully.
“Dear papa, I reminded you a week ago that my housekeeping purse was empty, and Mrs. Jones is—is dissatisfied at the length of our bill.”
She did not add that she had sold a pair of pearl bracelets to quiet the woman with a partial payment.
Mr. Heriton frowned angrily.