“What next?” he asked.
“If you’ll please tell me where the store is—the store that basket came from—and how to get there—”
“Now? It’s closed,” said he. His keen glance traveled round the bare little kitchen.
“I’ll see that you get your dinner,” he declared, and went off again, before they could say a word.
It was Gilbert who brought the dinner in on a tray, and no one could have performed a neighborly service more ungraciously. He was a remarkably good-looking boy of nineteen or so, but so surly, ill-tempered—
“He’s a young beast!” said Rose, indignantly.
Nina was silent a moment.
“Isn’t it queer—” she remarked. “How contagious that is!”
“Beastliness? You’d never catch it!” Rose declared.
“My dear, when he banged that tray down, and never even took off his hat, I wanted to throw a plate at him,” said Nina, seriously. “I’d have enjoyed it!”