“Preoccupation—thy name is man! Parker, quick, your handkerchief. The dish is as hot as—Say something, do.”
Before the glow of the fire she noticed the irritable frown upon her husband’s face.
“Most worried of men, what is the matter?”
“Matter!”
“Fate cannot touch us, the cakes are saved. Misery, Parker! Quick, the kettle!”
The silver spout was spouting hot water over Mrs. Betty’s treasured Japanese tray. Her husband with a “damn the thing,” turned down the cap of the spirit-lamp with a spoon.
“What an infernal fool that girl Symons is!”
Mrs. Betty drew a chair forward with her foot, reached for the tea-caddy, and glanced whimsically across the table at her much grieved mate.
“The king did not try to shift the responsibility, Parker.”
Dr. Steel sat down abruptly, with the air of a man in no mood for persiflage.