But not girls--not poor, miserable, marriageable girls!" "I even know a girl who lives in a flat." She sat up in surprise.

"You do ?" "I do," he assured her, emerging from the cupboard with the sought-for cake.
"Oh, I know--you mean Gerty Farish." She smiled a little unkindly.

"But I said MARRIAGEABLE--and besides, she has a horrid little place, and no maid, and such queer things to eat.

Her cook does the washing and the food tastes of soap.

I should hate that, you know." "You shouldn't dine with her on wash-days," said Selden, cutting the cake.
They both laughed, and he knelt by the table to light the lamp under the kettle, while she measured out the tea into a little tea-pot of green glaze.