"On this occasion I've been an earlier bird than you--I've breakfasted--but I will join you in a cup of coffee."
Rodney rang the bell. Miss Joyce entered with the breakfast on a tray. As she was placing the various articles on the table the two men scarcely spoke. The young man was examining the outsides of three or four letters which the morning post had brought; the elder, who had taken up his position before the fireplace, was for the most part observing Miss Joyce. When she had gone he said:
"That's not a bad-looking young woman. Who is she?"
"She's the landlady's daughter."
"Don't they keep a servant?"
"I fancy they do at intervals, someone who does the rougher work; but I'm out all day, and I never see her. So far as I'm concerned, either the mother or the daughter does the waiting."
"Are you the only lodger?"
"Oh, no; there's another man upstairs, who's by way of being a booking clerk or something. I rather fancy he has an eye in her direction."
"Is that so? Then perhaps that's what worries her. I never saw a young girl with a whiter face, or one with such an odd look in her eyes. It quite troubled me."
"How are you, sir? Though I don't think I need ask."