"It's a pity you stayed," said she. "Mrs. Hannay would have given you a better dinner."
He had nothing to say to so preposterous a charge. His eyes were fixed more than ever on his plate. She saw his face flush as he bowed his head in eating; she allowed her fancy to rest in its morbid abhorrence of the act, and in its suspicion of its grossness. She went on, lashed by her fancy. "I cannot understand your liking to go there so much, when you might go to the Eliotts or the Gardners. They're always asking you, and you haven't been near them for a year."
"Well, you see, the Hannays let me do what I like. They don't bother me."
"Do the Eliotts bother you?"
"They bore me. Horribly."
"And the Gardners?"
"Sometimes—a little."
"And Canon Wharton? No. I needn't ask."
He laughed. "You needn't. He bores me to extinction."
"I'm sorry it is my friends who are so unfortunate."