smelt of stale tobacco, as though he carried old pipes in every pocket.
He ate quickly and noisily, his eyes on his plate, his shoulders moving.

Jimmy asked timidly if he might have a piece of bread and jam. His
father said "Yes, of course," and went on eating. Marcella spread the
jam for him, and then turned to his father.

"I don't know many women," she said. "But I'd just like to see a man
treat me as a fragile flower."

"Ah, wasteful woman!" said Mr. Peters, smiling fatuously as he wrestled
with a hard piece of ham rather too big for his mouth. As soon as he had
swallowed it, he went on, "That's the thing a man loves in a woman--a
_real_ man, that is! 'Just like the ivy, I cling to thee' should be a
woman's motto, a true woman's motto. A woman's weakness, her trust in
man is her most womanly characteristic. It appeals to all that is best
and chivalrous in a man."

A fragile voice at his elbow said, "Mistah Petahs," and he turned
hurriedly towards it. Marcella said, "Pooh!" loudly and very rudely and
turned to Jimmy.

"Do you like cake?" she asked.

"Rather! Gran gives me cake."

"Well, you come with me into my little house after tea and we'll have
some. What number is your little house?"

"Fifteen."