A cutlet and a glass of cool claret will suit me admirably just
now, and we can talk as we eat."
While he stood there, admiring cynically, Mrs. Wilders came in.
She was in a loose morning wrapper of pale pink, and had seemingly
taken little trouble with her day's toilette as yet. Her _neglige_
dress hinted at hurry in leaving her room, and she addressed her
visitor in a hasty, impatient way.
"What is this so urgent that you come intruding at such an unseemly
hour?"
"You grow indolent, my dear madame. Why, it is half-past eleven."
"I have not yet breakfasted."
"So I see. I am delighted. No more have I."
"Was it to ask yourself to breakfast that you came here this morning?"
"Not entirely; another little matter brought me; but we can deal with
the two at the same time. Pray order them to serve: I am excessively
hungry."
Mrs. Wilders, without answering, pettishly pulled the bell.
"Lay another cover," she told the man, "and bring wine with the
breakfast. You will want it, I suppose," she said to her guest; "I
never touch it in the morning."
"How charmingly you manage! You have a special gift as a housewife.
What a delightful meal! I have seen nothing more refined in Paris."
There was a delicious lobster-salad, a dish of cold cutlets and jelly,
and a great heap of strawberries with cream.
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