“Another piece, please!” she commanded. “It’s the best thing I’ve struck since I’ve been this side, and I’m going to wolf into it for all I’m worth! Ordinary meals bore the life out of me, but I’m just wicked when I get started on sweets!”
Guest signalled to a damsel in attendance, and saw her eyes widen in amazement at the renewed order. She walked away suppressing a smile, and could be observed obviously retailing the incident to a companion behind the counter. It detracted woefully from the romance of the situation to be pointed out as a couple who had demolished a large plateful of cakes, and sent out an order for more!
Chapter Nineteen.
Before parting from Cornelia at the hotel, Guest made a point of finding out her programme of amusements for the next few days, as a consequence of which he called at a theatrical depôt on his way to his club, and secured an odd stall for either night. He had already more social engagements than he could keep, but it occurred to him that it would be possible to run into the theatre for an odd half hour, and chat with Cornelia during an interval, on his way from one place to another. He assured himself with much solemnity that it was his duty to look after the girl, since she had told him that he seemed to her like a bit of home, and he had the poorest possible opinion of her hosts.
As for Cornelia, she ran gaily upstairs to her room, disdaining the lift, and all a-sparkle with pleasurable excitement. From her point of view the afternoon had been an unmitigated success; she had been conscious of no jar, being blandly indifferent to every opinion but her own, and was now as whole-hearted in appreciation of her companion as she had previously been violent in denunciation. He was just the sweetest thing, and she was going to see him again to-morrow; maybe, to-night. It felt like being at home again to have a nice man hopping around!
She threw open the door of her room, and started with surprise to meet Mrs Moffatt on the threshold, her arms piled high with parcels. A long, narrow box lay on the top, and she had an impression of seeing her own name written on the cover, before Mrs Moffatt hurried past, speaking rapidly over her shoulder.
“Why, Cornelia, is that you? Excuse me, won’t you, coming into your room? The stupid things have gotten the parcels all mixed up. These are the things I ordered this morning. Come into the parlour before you change. I want you a moment.”
She bustled down the passage towards her own room, deposited her bundles, then crossed the corridor to the sitting-room, where Cornelia was already seated. She looked up as the elder woman entered, and thought she had never seen her look so worn and tired; so old, despite the artificial colouring.