“My dear,” she said, addressing May in a slightly choking voice, “if—if Mr. John Temple—is ready—dinner is.” And then a violent fit of coughing interrupted her utterance.
“John, you have forgotten to take off your overcoat!” said May, with a little laugh.
“So I have,” answered John, going out into the hall to remove it; and when he went back into the room he once more shook Miss Eliza’s kind hand.
“She looks very well,” he said, with a smile, and a glance at May.
“Sweetly pretty,” answered Miss Eliza, with a little gentle sigh.
Then presently Miss Webster appeared, followed by her parlor maid, with the dinner. Everything was well cooked, to Miss Webster’s great satisfaction, and John Temple did fair justice to her good things. May, however, could not eat. “I am too happy,” she was thinking, as time after time she raised her eyes shyly to John’s good-looking face.
Then, when dinner was over and the ladies were about to retire to the drawing-room, John laid a detaining hand on Miss Webster’s arm.
“Can I have a few words alone with you?” he said.
“Oh! yes, certainly,” answered Miss Webster, nervously.