“H’m. I spose he’ll begin the rake’s progress.”
“That’s about it. You’ve just about hit it” said Mr. Leyton with heavy significance.
Miriam lingered.
“I boil every blessed thing after he’s been ... if that’s any indication to you.”
“Boil them!” said Miriam vaguely distressed and pondering over Mr. Leyton standing active and aseptic between her and some horror ... something infectious ... it must be that awful mysterious thing ... how awful for Mr. Leyton to have to stop his teeth.
“Boil ’em” he chuckled knowingly.
“Why on earth?” she asked.
“Well—there you are” said Mr. Leyton—“that’s all I can tell you. I boil ’em.”
“Crikey” said Miriam half in response and half in comment on his falsetto laugh, as she made for the door. “Oh, but I say, I don’t understand your boiling apparatus, Mr. Leyton.”
“All right, don’t you worry. I’ll set it all going and shove the things in. You’ve only to turn off the gas and wipe ’em. I daresay I shall have time to do them myself.”