"
"Good God!"
"So I must be prudent. People have gorged themselves with furious eating
under those circumstances; that is why I asked you to supply me slowly.
Thank you. You need not look at me like that. Better folk than I have
_died_ of hunger. Something tells me I have reached the lowest spoke,
when I have been indebted to a stranger for a meal."
Vizard felt the water come into his eyes; but he resisted that pitiable
weakness. "Bother that nonsense!" said he. "I'll introduce myself, and
then you can't throw _stranger_ in my teeth. I am Harrington Vizard, a
Barfordshire squire."
"I thought you were not a Cockney."
"Lord forbid! Does that information entitle me to any in return?"
"I don't know; but, whether or no, my name is Rhoda Gale."
"Have another plate, Miss Gale?"
"Thanks."
He ordered another.
"I am proud of your confiding your name to me, Miss Gale; but, to tell
the truth, what I wanted to know is how a young lady of your talent and
education could be so badly off as you must be. It is not impertinent
curiosity."
The young lady reflected a moment. "Sir," said she, "I don't think it is;
and I would not much mind telling you.
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