“There’s something big about you, Anita!” said Miss Howe suddenly.
Mr. Flood gave the oblique flicker of eyes and mouth that was his smile.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “it fits her quite well.”
“What?” said Anita sharply.
“The mantle, dear lady.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Ah—Gentle dullness ever loves a joke. What, Beryl?”
“I don’t see,” the Baxter girl had harked back, “how you can call a book that has been banned conventional.”
“Only the plot——”
“Ah, that plot!” Nobody could snub Mr. Flood. “Think, dear lady! Village maiden—faithless lover—lights o’ London—unfortunate female—what more do you want?”