At first the doctor gave all his attention to the food and warmth of which he stood in need, and Elsie felt self-conscious, and as though she were out of place.
She ceased to answer his occasional facetious interjections, and threw herself back in her chair, gazing down at her own clasped hands.
Gradually the atmosphere of the room altered, and Elsie’s instinct told her that the current of magnetism that had never failed her yet was awakening its inevitable response in the man opposite.
At once she felt confident again, and at her ease.
“I say, why didn’t the missus take you to the theatre when she found I was busy?” he queried suddenly.
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose she never thought of such a thing.”
“Wanted someone nearer her own age, eh? You won’t find the ladies running after someone younger and prettier than themselves, you know. Too much of a contrast.”
Elsie laughed self-consciously.
“All the better for me, eh? I’m not often allowed to get you all to myself like this, eh? Ah, when I was a gay young bacheldore things was different, they was.”
Elsie laughed again, this time in spontaneous tribute to the humour of wilful mis-pronunciation.