"So you've come at last," she snapped, as he seated himself on a wooden box.
"Got it this time," he replied genially, sniffing the air appreciatively. "'Ope you got somethink nice for yer little love-bird."
"Don't you love-bird me," cried Mrs. Bindle, who had been looking for some one on whom to vent her displeasure. "I suppose you're going to leave me to do all the work while you go gallivanting about playing the gentleman."
"I don't needs to play it, Mrs. B., I'm IT. Vere de Vere with blood as blue as 'Earty's stories."
"If you think I'm going to moil and toil and cook for you down here as I do at home, you're mistaken. I came for a rest. I've hardly had a wink of sleep all night," she sniffed ominously.
"I thought I 'eard you on the 'unt," said Bindle sympathetically.
"Bindle!" There was warning in her tone.
"But wasn't you?" He looked across at her in surprise, his mouth full of eggs and bacon.
"I—I had a disturbed night," she drew in her lips primly.
"So did I," said Bindle gloomily. "I'd 'ave disturbed 'em if I could 'ave caught 'em. My God! There must 'ave been millions of 'em," he added reminiscently.