replied with a heavy sigh, and remaining thoughtful for a few moments, drank a long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat he sighed again, and applied himself assiduously to the pie.
"What a nice young lady Miss Emily is!" said Mary, after a long silence.
The fat boy had by this time finished the pie. He fixed his eyes on Mary, and replied:
"I knows a nicerer."
"Indeed!" said Mary.
"Yes, indeed!" replied the fat boy, with unwonted vivacity.
"What's her name?" inquired Mary.
"What's yours?"
"Mary."
"So's hers," said the fat boy. "You're her." The boy grinned to add point to the compliment, and put his eyes into something between a squint and a cast, which there is reason to believe he intended for an ogle.
"You mustn't talk to me in that way," said Mary; "you don't mean it."
"Don't I, though?" replied the fat boy; "I say!"
"Well."
"Are you going to come here regular?"
"No," rejoined Mary, shaking her head, "I'm going away again to-night. Why?"
"Oh!" said the fat boy in a tone of strong feeling; "how we should have enjoyed ourselves at meals, if you had been!"
"I might come here sometimes, perhaps, to see you," said Mary, plaiting the table-cloth in assumed coyness, "if you would do me a favour."
The fat boy looked from the pie-dish to the steak, as if he thought a favour must be in a manner connected with something to eat; and then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it nervously.
"Don't you understand me?" said Mary, looking slyly in his fat face.
