But what he said was: "Are they really suppers that you have, or are they only teas ?" "Now I know," said the lady, "why you have sometimes taken dinner with us, but never supper.

You were afraid that it would be a tea." Lawrence Croft was thinking that if this girl believed that he was in love with her, it would make a great deal of difference in his present course of action.

If such were the case, he ought not to come here so often, or, in fact, he ought not to come at all, until he had decided for himself what he was going to do.

But what could he say that would cause her, for the briefest moment, to unveil her idea of himself.

"I never could endure," he said, "those meals which consist of thin shavings of bread with thick plasters of butter, aided and abetted by sweet cakes, preserves, and tea." "You should have reserved those remarks," she said, "until you had found out what sort of evening meal we have." He could certainly say something, he thought.