“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Blount,” she said, and the young man who was a musician pricked up his ears when he heard that soft, musical voice.
“And I’ve robbed you of your ham,” he continued.
“It was a pleasure to know you enjoyed it,” she said.
Presently Molly began clearing the table. Richard sat down at the piano. It was evident that he never wandered far from his beloved instrument, and the girls gathered around him while he ran over the first act of his new opera.
Professor Edwin Green said good night and took himself and his coffee-soaked trousers home to his rooms.
“You can follow later, Dickie,” he called.
As he passed Molly, standing by the door, he smiled at her again, and Molly smiled back, though she was quite ready to cry.
“The ham was delicious,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
That night, when Molly had wearily climbed the stairs to her room and flung herself on her couch, Nance, writing at her desk, called over:
“Well, how was the beefsteak?”