“We were laughing and talking when cook said ‘Look, Nelly—there’s the boss.’”
“I said ‘If that isn’t his nibs!’” amended Mrs. Magglesark.
“And there he was!” said Eleanor. “With a girl, very tall and dressed in black, and he was holding her hand!”
“In the street?” incredulously.
“In the car: from the top of a ’bus you can look down into cars, if they’re open. Many a sight I’ve seen!”
“Was she pretty?” asked Trenter, man-like.
Eleanor’s lips pursed.
“Well, I suppose some people would call her pretty. Did you think she was pretty, cook?”
Mrs. Magglesark, having reached the age when she regarded all young people as passable, thought she was pretty.
“Holding her hand!” Trenter was very thoughtful. “It wasn’t Mrs. van Oynne?”