"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for letting her do it."
"Well," said Miss Marchrose gaily, "he boils my kettle for me."
Mark had placed the big kettle on the gas-ring and cleared the table of the heavy typewriter.
He was in his usual excellent spirits, and made indifferent jokes at which Miss Marchrose laughed with an absence of constraint such as Julian had not seen in her before. It was evident that Mark's gift for making friends had not failed him, any more than his magical capacity for diffusing contentment throughout his surroundings.
Contentment, however, stopped short at Lady Rossiter, as it was always apt to do when the focus of general attention was diverted to an object which she considered unworthy.
"Isn't Mr. Fuller coming in to tea?" She quietly interrupted Mark's exchange of chaffing allusions with Miss Marchrose.
"He generally comes. I'll go and dig him out," Mark volunteered.
"Your presence has frightened him away, Edna," said her husband, not without malice. "Fuller is a shy bird."
Edna smiled serenely.
"Poor Mr. Fuller, he and I are great friends."