Lovegood smiled sadly:
“She sings for money at tavern doors now,” he said—“and she was such a dainty creature!”
“Yes—I suppose you gave her your last half-crown, Eustace!”
The big man put out a deprecating hand:
“You exaggerate, Caroline; I lent her a florin——”
She nodded:
“And so there was no lunch to day—and will be no dinner!”
“Pray do not exaggerate, Caroline. I wish you would not exaggerate.... I shall not regale at a restaurant—that is all.... Look at the potentiality of satisfaction in the homely bun!... As a matter of fact, I think the moderns eat too much flesh——”
“Tut!” said Caroline Baddlesmere—“don’t make excuses to your own conscience.... But you want to say something, Eustace—I know by the way you are fiddling with other subjects. Do say it like a good fellow.”
Lovegood coughed: