“By the way,” said Mrs. Carter, turning round in the hall, “when I come to think of it, Mr. Frobisher, it seems to me that it would be as well for you to offer your services instead of me.” And she re-entered the dining-room.
Charley stood looking down upon the floor and twirling his thumbs.
“Don’t you think so?”
“Will you allow me to be perfectly frank?” said Charley, looking up.
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Carter, with a surprised look; “what is your opinion?”
“That neither of us ask the names and addresses of his friends.”
“Really? Of course, if you have any reason to think—if you know anything—”
“I know nothing whatever, but—”
“But what?” gasped the girls.
Charley stood silent for a time, stroking his yellow beard.