She paused, and across her grim face came a smile the like of which he had not seen there before.
“The bonnie wee thing!” she said.
“What!” cried Hughes. “What! I mean—why did you say—that?”
“It suits her,” said Mrs. Boles. “Her mother was talking to me to-day. She told me that there was an old professor—a Mr. MacAllister—”
“MacAndrews,” Hughes explained.
“You’ve heard about him, then. Well, it seems to me—” Once more she paused. “As soon as I told Mrs. Dexter that this was malaria, and we ought to leave here, they both invited me to visit them. Both of them—without an instant’s hesitation. She told me about their flat in the city—and their life. They’re not at all well off, but they’re happy.
“They know how to live!” Mrs. Boles continued. “Kind, gracious people. They know how to live. Any one could see that. They make every detail—this tray, for instance. Desborough, it’s been a revelation to me!”
“Er—yes—” her nephew said absently. “Well, I’d better go downstairs, now, and—and see if I can help them. What? What did you say?”
“I said—you’d better get them to help you!” Mrs. Boles explained.