Here Arthur interrupted.
"They're like snails," said he to Mary. "You can only train 'em with infinite patience."
Phyllis rose suddenly and became the cynosure of all eyes except her own, whose particular cynosure at the moment was the floor. She moved toward the door.
"Where are you off to?" asked Mary.
"I'm just going to speak to Chef."
"What about?"
"About some chicken broth."
"For yourself?"
The gentle Phyllis was being goaded beyond endurance. At the door she turned and lifted her great eyes to Mary's.