"Two stewed scallops, and after that some lamb cutlets, new potatoes, and asparagus."
"Bon! Next, meiss," said the waiter, who began to think that the diner's prodigality warranted an unusually handsome tip.
Miss Toombs ordered roast ducklings and peas, together with other things, which included a big bottle of Burgundy, the while Mavis stared at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed; the starving girl could scarcely believe her ears.
"Is it—is it all true?" she murmured.
"Is what true?"
"Oh, meeting with you."
"Why? Have I altered much?"
It seemed a long time to Mavis till the soup was placed before her. Even when its savoury appeal made her faint with longing, she said:
"I'm—I'm really not a bit—"
She got no further. She had taken a mouthful of the soup, to hold it for a few moments in her mouth. She had no idea till then that it was possible to enjoy such delicious sensations. Once her fast was broken, the floodgates of appetite were open. She no longer made pretence of concealing her hunger; she would not have been able to if she had wished. She swallowed great mouthfuls of food greedily, silently, ravenously; she ate so fast that once or twice she was in danger of choking. If anyone had taken her food away, she would have fought to get it back. Thus Mavis devoured course after course, unaware, careless that Miss Toombs herself was eating next to nothing, and was watching her with quiet satisfaction from the corners of her eyes.