“Shut the door,” he said; “I am making cocoa; will you have a cup?”
“Am I disturbing you?” asked Hilary.
Mr. Stone looked at him steadily before answering:
“If I work after cocoa, I find it clogs the liver.”
“Then, if you'll let me, sir, I'll stay a little.”
“It is boiling,” said Mr. Stone. He took the saucepan off the flame, and, distending his frail cheeks, blew. Then, while the steam mingled with his frosty beard, he brought two cups from a cupboard, filled one of them, and looked at Hilary.
“I should like you,” he said, “to hear three or four pages I have just completed; you may perhaps be able to suggest a word or two.”
He placed the saucepan back on the stove, and grasped the cup he had filled.
“I will drink my cocoa, and read them to you.”
Going to the desk, he stood, blowing at the cup.