"Why didn't you tell me to do it, then? I never thought of it.
Besides, I didn't know what this beast of a station house was like.
No carpets, no beds, no servants. And I'm dying for want of them
all. And now I must have my breakfast. Why don't you order it,
Malcolm?" she whimpered.
"I am afraid they do not provide breakfasts any more than they do other luxuries for the guests of this establishment," replied the viscount, with a malignant laugh.
"But I shall starve, then," said the poor little animal, bursting into tears.
"I cannot help it," replied the viscount, very much in the same tone as if he had said: "I do not care."
But here McRae spoke:
"My lord, there is nearly an hour left before we shall go before the magistrate. If you wish, therefore, you can send out to some hotel and order your breakfast brought to you here."
"Thank you; I will avail myself of your suggestion. Whom can I send?" inquired the viscount.
"Christie, you can go for his lordship," said McRae to his subordinate, who had just entered the hall.
Christie came forward to take the order.
"What will you have?" inquired Lord Vincent, curtly addressing his "sweet angel."