But Johnny made no answer to her; contenting himself for the moment with wiping the perspiration from his brow.  There was Amelia opposite to him, looking at him,—­the very Amelia to whom he had written, declining the honour of marrying her.  Of what her mood towards him might be, he could form no judgment from her looks.  Her face was simply stern and impassive, and she seemed inclined to eat her dinner in silence.  A slight smile of derision had passed across her face as she heard Mrs Lupex whisper, and it might have been discerned that her nose, at the same time, became somewhat elevated; but she said not a word.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself, Mr Eames, among the vernal beauties of the country,” said Mrs Lupex.

“Very much, thank you,” he replied.

“There’s nothing like the country at this autumnal season of the year.  As for myself, I’ve never been accustomed to remain in London after the breaking up of the beau monde.  We’ve usually been to Broadstairs, which is a very charming place, with most elegant society, but now—­” and she shook her head, by which all the company knew that she intended to allude to the sins of Mr Lupex.

“I’d never wish to sleep out of London for my part,” said Mrs Roper.  “When a woman’s got a house over her head, I don’t think her mind’s ever easy out of it.”

She had not intended any reflection on Mrs Lupex for not having a house of her own, but that lady immediately bristled up.  “That’s just what the snails say, Mrs Roper.  And as for having a house of one’s own, it’s a very good thing, no doubt, sometimes; but that’s according to circumstances.  It has suited me lately to live in lodgings, but there’s no knowing whether I mayn’t fall lower than that yet, and have—­” but here she stopped herself, and looking over at Mr Cradell nodded her head.

“And have to let them,” said Mrs Roper.  “I hope you’ll be more lucky with your lodgers than I have been with some of mine.  Jemima, hand the potatoes to Miss Spruce.  Miss Spruce, do let me send you a little more gravy?  There’s plenty here, really.”  Mrs Roper was probably thinking of Mr Todgers.

“I hope I shall,” said Mrs Lupex.  “But, as I was saying, Broadstairs is delightful.  Were you ever at Broadstairs, Mr Cradell?”

“Never, Mrs Lupex.  I generally go abroad in my leave.  One sees more of the world, you know.  I was at Dieppe last June, and found that very delightful—­though rather lonely.  I shall go to Ostend this year; only December is so late for Ostend.  It was a deuced shame my getting December, wasn’t it, Johnny?”

“Yes, it was,” said Eames.  “I managed better.”

“And what have you been doing, Mr Eames?” said Mrs Lupex, with one of her sweetest smiles.  “Whatever it may have been, you’ve not been false to the cause of beauty, I’m sure.”  And she looked over to Amelia with a knowing smile.  But Amelia was engaged upon her plate, and went on with her dinner without turning her eyes either on Mrs Lupex or on John Eames.