"That's all right," he answered cheerfully.
"'That's all right?' What do you mean by that, sir?"
"I mean that I don't at all mind when you don't come back to tea. I think I rather prefer it. There, Miss Lisle!"
"You rude boy!" She felt herself quite justified in boxing his ears.
"Oh, I say, hold hard! Mind my violets!" he exclaimed.
"Your violets? Oh, how sweet they are!" And bending forward, Judith smelt them daintily. "Where did you get them, Bertie?"
"Ah! where?" And Bertie stood before the glass and surveyed himself. The cheap lodging-house mirror cast a greenish shade over his features, but the little bouquet in his buttonhole came out very well. "Where did I get them? I didn't buy them, if you mean that. They were given to me."
"Who gave them to you?"
"And then women say it isn't fair to call them curious!" Bertie put his head on one side, dropped his eyelids, looked out of the corners of his eyes, and smiled, fingering an imaginary curl.
"Not that nasty Miss Bryant? She didn't!"