“Two,” said the gentleman in an injured voice.
She looked inquiringly at the skipper with the sugar-tongs poised.
“I’ll leave it to you,” said he confusedly. Mr. Glover smiled contemptuously, and raised his eye-brows a little. Miss Gething dropped in one piece and handed him the cup.
“Sometimes I take one piece, sometimes two or three,” said the skipper, trying to explain away his foolishness. “I’m not particular.”
“You must be of an easy-going nature,” said Miss Gething indulgently.
“Don’t know his own mind, I should think,” said Mr. Glover rudely.
“I know it about other things,” said the skipper.
The tone in which this remark was made set Mr. Glover wondering darkly what the other things were. Neither man was disposed to be talkative, and tea would have proceeded in sombre silence but for the hostess. At ten minutes past six Mr. Glover rose and with great unwillingness said he must go.
“It isn’t raining much now,” said Miss Gething encouragingly. Mr. Glover went to the hall, and taking his hat and umbrella, shook hands with her. Then he came to the door again, and looked at the skipper. “Going my way?” he inquired with great affability, considering.
“Er—no,” said the other.