"Oh, yes; so he might."
"What on earth are you talking about? When will dinner be ready?" demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, waking up from his nap. Straightening himself up and looking around, he saw Rose Stillwater.
"Oh, my dear, are you better of your headache?"
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Rockharrt."
"You look pale, as if you had gone through a sharp siege, if a short one. You should have told me in the pew, and allowed me to take you here, not ventured out alone, when you were in such pain."
"But I did not wish to attract the least attention, so I slipped out unperceived while everybody's heads were bent in prayer."
"All very well, my dear; but pray don't venture on such a step again. I am always at your service to attend you. Now, Cora, ring for dinner to be served. It was ordered for five o'clock, I think, and it is five minutes past," said Mr. Rockharrt, consulting his watch.
Cora arose, but before she could reach the bell, the door was opened, and the waiter appeared to lay the cloth.
After dinner the Iron King went into a little room attached to the suite, which he used as a smoking den.
The two young women settled themselves to read.