She flushed; he had put her own secret fear into words.
"I'm quite sure you will get the prize," remarked Stewart, who had been invited to tea. He spoke with deep earnestness; he had an intense admiration for Denis.
But Denis sat glum and gloomy while they pressed bread and butter on him, and Stewart made him a slice of French toast. Then suddenly he looked up, and he burst out laughing.
"Oh, how you're all waiting on Sir Doldrums Gloomy-grump! Look at the noble Stewart's flushed countenance, reddened in my unworthy service! Not another word on literature! Let's forget that such things as speeches exist!"
But presently he began to laugh again:—
"I'm thinking of poor old Lancaster. Saw him this afternoon—talk about gloom! He was in a vile temper! 'Pretty lot of fools we'll look! But I deserve all I get!' he growled, and off he marched, though I wanted to speak to him particularly!"
While they were dressing, Stewart slipped away next door.
He reappeared, oddly red and shy.
Sheila Pat, in short white petticoat and stockinged feet, met him on the landing.
"Where have you been, Tommy?"