"How much did you give that youth instead of the £100?"
"Only ten, Edmund." There was a note of pleading in her voice.
"And you will have dinner up here on a tray as there is no fire in the dining-room?"
"Well, what does it matter?"
"And how much will there be to eat on the tray?"
"Oh! much more than I can possibly eat."
"Because it will be some nasty warmed-up stuff washed down by tea. It's of no use trying to deceive me: I've heard that the cook is seventeen, and an orphan herself."
"But what will those other orphans have for dinner?"
"Now, Rose, will you listen to common sense. How many orphans has that sandy-faced cleric on his hands?"
"There were only four left."