"What! don't you find him so? a thorough gentleman?"
"I don't know what a thorough gentleman is, I dare say," assented Mrs. Laudersdale, indifferently, with no spirit for repartee, breaking an egg and putting it down, crumbling a roll, and finally attacking a biscuit, but gradually raising the siege, yawning, and leaning back in her chair.
"You poor thing!" said Helen. "You are starving to death. What shall I get for you? I have influence in the kitchens. Does marmalade, to spread your muffins, present any attractions? or shall I beg for rusks? or what do you say to doughnuts? there are doughnuts in this closet; crullers and milk are nice for breakfast."
And in a few minutes Helen had rifled a shelf of sufficient temptations to overcome Mrs. Laudersdale's abstinence.
"After all," said she then, "you didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
"If it weren't odd to meet Mr. Raleigh here."
"I don't know," said Mrs. Laudersdale.
"Dear! Mary Purcell takes as much interest. She said he was impertinent, made her talk too much, and made fun of her."
"Very likely."