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"Eugene Struther," she answered quietly, "I am glad, too." Struther was one of the best of the young men to be met at the Newlyns, and he and she always got on fairly well.
Struther proceeded to prepare a bottle of infantile food, which she tenderly applied to the baby's impatient lips; and while the ensuing degustation went on, she seated herself with a beaming countenance beside her visitor. "You're sure you won't let me warm up a drop of coffee for you, Miss Bart?
Struther, and Miss Struther: Doctor Toddy's two daughters and their mamma: but where were the gentlemen? The Mulligan, great and active as he was, could not suffice among so many beauties. At last came a brisk neat little knock, and looking into the hall, I saw a gentleman taking off his clogs there, whilst Sir Giles Bacon's big footman was looking on with rather a contemptuous air.
I was one of the girls at Miss Farish's club you helped me to go to the country that time I had lung-trouble. My name's Nettie Struther. It was Nettie Crane then but I daresay you don't remember that either." Yes: Lily was beginning to remember. The episode of Nettie Crane's timely rescue from disease had been one of the most satisfying incidents of her connection with Gerty's charitable work.
Eugene Struther is your man, and M. Joyselle objects to his table because it is number thirteen." Brigit, shaking hands with her enthusiastic hostess, caught Joyselle's eye. He had heard. "Mind? Not a bit," she answered carelessly, "if he doesn't." Mrs. Newlyn turned, to find the top of Joyselle's head presented to her in a bow of mockly-resigned acquiescence. "Then, that's all right.
Struther talked little, Brigit, with her usual indifference to others, almost not at all, and as Joyselle's self-command rose only to the height of an occasional reply to the Spectre's monologue, which was not of an arresting nature, the party on the balcony was very quiet. Brigit suffered tortures as she sat watching Joyselle. It was, then, as she had feared.
"Oh, but I can't leave you like this you're not fit to go home alone. And I can't go with you either!" Nettie Struther wailed with a start of recollection. "You see, it's my husband's night-shift he's a motor-man and the friend I leave the baby with has to step upstairs to get HER husband's supper at seven.
Nettie Struther, with a startled exclamation, sat down and slipped a shabbily-clad arm behind her back. "Why, Miss Bart, you ARE sick. Just lean on me a little till you feel better." A faint glow of returning strength seemed to pass into Lily from the pressure of the supporting arm.
"But, mercy, I didn't mean to go on like this about myself, with you sitting there looking so fagged out. Only it's so lovely having you here, and letting you see just how you've helped me." The baby had sunk back blissfully replete, and Mrs. Struther softly rose to lay the bottle aside. Then she paused before Miss Bart.
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