For some reason he did not feel so bashful as he anticipated, particularly with Mrs. Clifton.
"He's soon going to be married to a very rich young lady,—Miss Greyson; perhaps you know her."
"That's where he has the advantage of me," said Rufus.
"Mr. Clifton," said his wife, "don't you think Mr. Rushton looks very much like Mr. Hunter?"
"Yes," said her husband; "as much as I look like the Emperor Napoleon."
"Don't make a goose of yourself, Mr. Clifton," said his wife, sharply.
"Thank you, I don't intend to. A goose is a female, and I don't care to make such a change."
"I suppose you think that is witty," said Mrs. Clifton, a little disdainfully.
It is unnecessary to pursue the conversation. Those who remember Mrs. Clifton when she was Miss Peyton will easily understand what was its character. It had the effect, however, of putting Rufus at his ease. On the whole, considering that he was only used to cheap restaurants, he acquitted himself very well for the first time, and no one suspected that he had not always been accustomed to live as well. The dinner he found excellent. Mrs. Clayton herself superintended the preparation of dinner, and she was not inclined to undue economy, as is the case with many landladies.
"I'm glad I came here," thought Rufus. "It's worth the difference in price."