"It's only tepid as it is."
"I am hungry," proclaimed a plaintive voice in incautiously raised tones.
"H'sh-sh! You'll disturb Miss Vivian. Why are you hungry at this hour, Tony?"
"Well, we didn't have anything frightfully substantial for supper, did we? and I had to go after the scrambled eggs, because I was on telephone duty. So I didn't even have any pudding."
"Oh, poor kid! Couldn't Mrs. Bullivant have got you something?"
"I didn't like to ask her; she's so worried tonight, what with Miss Vivian's coming and everything. Besides"—Tony's voice sounded very serious—"there never is anything, you know. Only tomorrow's breakfast."
"Hasn't any one got some biscuits?"
"I'll go down to the kitchen and find some milk for you," said the peculiarly distinct tones of Grace Jones. "I know where it's kept."
"Oh, why should you bother?"
"It isn't at all a bother. You must be starving."