"She says she's _hungry,_ and I haven't a thing in the house! For goodness sake think of something, Hardinge." "Mrs.Mulcahy!" suggests Hardinge, in anything but a hopeful tone.
"Yes--ye-es," says the professor.

"You--_you _wouldn't ask her something, would you, Hardinge ?" "Not for a good deal," says Hardinge, promptly.

"I say," rising, and going towards Everett's cupboard, "Everett's a Sybarite, you know, of the worst kind--sure to find something here, and we can square it with him afterwards.

Beauty in distress, you know, appeals to all hearts.

_Here we are!"_ holding out at arm's length a pasty.