antimacassars being notoriously parasitic things. Sophia sat down,
somewhat self-consciously. The serious Constance was also
perturbed. Mr. Povey did not usually take tea in the house on
Thursday afternoons; his practice was to go out into the great,
mysterious world. Never before had he shared a meal with the girls
alone. The situation was indubitably unexpected, unforeseen; it
was, too, piquant, and what added to its piquancy was the fact
that Constance and Sophia were, somehow, responsible for Mr.
Povey. They felt that they were responsible for him. They had
offered the practical sympathy of two intelligent and well-trained
young women, born nurses by reason of their sex, and Mr. Povey had
accepted; he was now on their hands. Sophia's monstrous, sly
operation in Mr. Povey's mouth did not cause either of them much
alarm, Constance having apparently recovered from the first shock
of it. They had discussed it in the kitchen while preparing the
teas; Constance's extraordinarily severe and dictatorial tone in
condemning it had led to a certain heat. But the success of the
impudent wrench justified it despite any irrefutable argument to
the contrary. Mr. Povey was better already, and he evidently
remained in ignorance of his loss.

"Have some?" Constance asked of Sophia, with a large spoon
hovering over the bowl of shells.

"Yes, PLEASE," said Sophia, positively.

Constance well knew that she would have some, and had only asked
from sheer nervousness.

"Pass your plate, then."