“Don’t I, though?” replied the fat boy; “I say!”
“Well?”
“Are you going to come here regular?”
“No,” rejoined Mary, shaking her head, “I’m going away to-night. Why?”
“Oh!” said the fat boy in a tone of strong feeling; “how we should have enjoyed ourselves at meals, if you had been!”
“I might come here sometimes perhaps, to see you,” said Mary, plaiting the table-cloth in assumed coyness, “if you would do me a favour.”
The fat boy looked from the pie-dish to the steak, as if he thought a favour must be in a manner connected with something to eat; and then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it nervously.
“Don’t you understand me?” said Mary, looking slyly in his fat face.
Again he looked at the half-crown, and said faintly, “No.”
“The ladies want you not to say anything to the old gentleman about the young gentleman having been up-stairs; and I want you too.”