When he came back with the glass of water Mr. Biggielow had just brought Joe some salad. The usual struggle began between the two men. Mr. Bonamy Biggielow was a little poet.
“I ought to thank you, Miss Thorn, instead of you thanking me,” said Vancouver, in a seductive voice, on one side of Joe.
“Is it not the most crowded supper you ever saw?” remarked Mr. Biggielow on the other side.
“Why?” said Joe, eating her salad and looking straight before her.
“I thought you were going to send me away. I was so glad when you condescended to make use of me,” answered Vancouver.
Mr. Biggielow also answered Joe’s interrogation.
“Well,” he said, “I mean it is thronged with people. There is a decided ’sound of revelry by night’.”
“Youth and beauty? That sort of thing?” said Joe to Biggielow. Then turning to Vancouver, she added, “Why should I send you away?”
“I hope there is no reason,” he said gravely. “In fact, I am sure there is none, except that you would of course always do exactly as you pleased about that and everything else.”
“Yes, indeed,” Joe answered, and her lip curled a little proudly, “you are quite right about that. But then, you know, I did not send you away.”