"There are no such obligations. Please remember what roof covers you——"
"Mr. Edgerton!"
"And whose salt——"
"It's our salt, anyway," said Diana; "I bought it myself!"
They seated themselves, laughing; then suddenly Edgerton remembered, and he went away with a hasty excuse, only to return again with a brace of decanters.
"My uncle's port and sherry," he said.
"'My uncle's port and sherry,' he said."
Silvette jumped up and found half-a-dozen old-time glasses; and the luncheon continued.
"Isn't it ridiculous!" observed the young fellow, glancing around the studio; "here am I surrounded by a fortune in idiotic antiquities, lunching from a table that the Metropolitan Museum inherits after my death, sipping a sherry which came from the cellars of a British monarch—with two dollars and several cents in my pockets, and not the slightest idea where to get more. Isn't it funny!"