“Quite that. Let’s see! Candles! Ah, I think this is them.” And it was.
“Thank God!” exclaimed Wynne. “I want twenty-one.”
He watched in an agony of suspense as she turned out precisely that number.
“Five a penny,” she said.
“Lord!” he gasped. “I’ve only fourpence.”
“You can pay me the odd farthing when you are passing.”
Greatly to the good lady’s surprise the extraordinary young man leant across the counter and planted a kiss upon her ample cheek, then seizing his purchases raced from the shop and scuttled down the street.
“Well I never!” she exclaimed—“must be a bit mad.” But nevertheless she rubbed the spot where the kiss had fallen with a kindly touch.
VI
Probably for the first time in his life Wynne felt the need of fine linen. It is a sorry happening to lay choice dishes on a bare board. A flash of memory provided an alternative, and he unearthed a roll of white wallpaper from a cupboard. Mindful of a trick performed by small boys at gallery doors, he folded and tore the paper to a rough presentment of a lace cloth. Quite imposing it looked upon the black surface of the old oak table.