By this time Father Benwell had discovered his mistake. He took a mean
advantage of Miss Notman's susceptibilities to slip his own private
inquiries into the interval of silence.
"Pardon my ignorance," he said; "my own poor dinner is a matter of ten
minutes and one dish. I don't understand a difference of opinion on a
dinner for three people only; Lord and Lady Loring, two; Mr. Romayne,
three--oh! perhaps I am mistaken? Perhaps Miss Eyrecourt makes a
fourth?"
"Certainly, Father!"
"A very charming person, Miss Notman. I only speak as a stranger. You,
no doubt, are much better acquainted with Miss Eyrecourt?"
"Much better, indeed--if I may presume to say so," Miss Notman replied.
"She is my lady's intimate friend; we have often talked of Miss
Eyrecourt during the many years of my residence in this house. On
such subjects, her ladyship treats me quite on the footing of a humble
friend. A complete contrast to the tone she took, Father, when we came
to the order of the dishes. We agreed, of course, about the soup and the
fish; but we had a little, a very little, divergence of opinion, as I
may call it, on the subject of the dishes to follow.
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