“Three, I think,” said Agnes, smiling pleasantly. “Mr. Elliot’ll be back in a minute. He has gone to order dinner.
“Thank you, miss.”
“Plenty of teacups to wash up!”
“But teacups is easy washing, particularly Mr. Elliot’s.”
“Why are his so easy?”
“Because no nasty corners in them to hold the dirt. Mr. Anderson—he’s below-has crinkly noctagons, and one wouldn’t believe the difference. It was I bought these for Mr. Elliot. His one thought is to save one trouble. I never seed such a thoughtful gentleman. The world, I say, will be the better for him.” She took the teacups into the gyp room, and then returned with the tablecloth, and added, “if he’s spared.”
“I’m afraid he isn’t strong,” said Agnes.
“Oh, miss, his nose! I don’t know what he’d say if he knew I mentioned his nose, but really I must speak to someone, and he has neither father nor mother. His nose! It poured twice with blood in the Long.”
“Yes?”
“It’s a thing that ought to be known. I assure you, that little room!... And in any case, Mr. Elliot’s a gentleman that can ill afford to lose it. Luckily his friends were up; and I always say they’re more like brothers than anything else.”