"Oh, yes, indeed! I should think he'd be ashamed to look a clam in the face—that is, if a clam has a face," laughed Alice. "It's awfully good of you, Mrs. Dalwood, to make it for him so often."
"Well, I'm always glad when a man enjoys his meals," declared Mrs. Dalwood, who, being a widow, knew what the lack of proper home life meant.
"I'm afraid we're imposing on you," suggested Alice, as she started down the stairs. "You have us over to tea so often, and we seldom invite you."
"Now don't be thinking that, my dear!" exclaimed the neighbor. "I know what it is when you have to pose so much for moving pictures.
"My boy Russ tells me what long hours you put in, and how hard you work. And it's trouble enough to get up a meal these days, and have anything left to pay the rent. So I'm only too glad when you can come in and enjoy the victuals with us. I cook too much anyhow, and of late Russ seems to have lost his appetite."
"I fancy I know why," laughed Alice, with a roguish glance at her sister.
"Alice!" protested Ruth, in shocked tones. "Don't you dare——"
"I was only going to say that he has not seemed well since coming back from Florida—what was the harm in that?" Alice wanted to know.
"Oh!" murmured Ruth. "Do come on," she added, as if she feared her fun-loving sister might say something embarrassing.
"Russ will be better soon, Mrs. Dalwood," Alice called as she and her sister went down the stairway of the apartment house.