After the meal was finished, each had his candle to blow out, and then all returned to the parlour, leaving the debris for the later attention of the “hired help.”
Orde with determination made his way to Miss Bishop's side. She smiled at him.
“You see, I am a hypocrite as well as a mean little snip,” said she. “I threw a little bread myself.”
“Threw bread?” repeated Orde. “I didn't see you.”
“The moon is made of green cheese,” she mocked him, “and there are countries where men's heads do grow beneath their shoulders.” She moved gracefully away toward Jane Hubbard. “Do you Western 'business men' never deal in figures of speech as well as figures of the other sort?” she wafted back to him over her shoulder.
“I was very stupid,” acknowledged Orde, following her.
She stopped and faced him in the middle of the room, smiling quizzically.
“Well?” she challenged.
“Well, what?” asked Orde, puzzled.
“I thought perhaps you wanted to ask me something.”