"We didn't _have_ lunch," Meg exclaimed with a sob. "At least, I didn't ... it was the lunch that did it." "Did what?" "Made me realise what I had done, and go away." "Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately to keep his voice steady, "was it a very bad lunch?" "I don't know," she answered with the utmost seriousness. "We hadn't begun; we were just going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly it came over me that if I stayed ... those hands...." She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it and hid her face in her hands. Anthony made no sound, and presently, still with hidden face, she went on again: "And in that minute I saw what I was doing, and that I could never be the same again, and I remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and my dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... and you and Jan and Fay--_all_ the special people I pray for every single night and morning--and I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I should die...." "And how did you get away?" "It was quite simple. There was something wrong with the car (that's how he got his hands so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just as we were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said the motor-man had come ... and he went out to the garage to speak to him...." "Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg paused. "So I just walked out of the front door. No one saw me, and the station was across the road, and I went right in and asked when there was a train to London, and there _was_ one going in five minutes; so I took a ticket and came straight here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. I knew she would ..." and Meg began to sob feebly. And, as if in response to the mention of her name, Hannah appeared, bearing a tray with tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray very high and stately, as though it were a sacrifice. As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to the window, standing there with her back to the room. "I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging somebody to contradict her, "that Miss Morton would be the better for an egg to her tea. She looks just like a bit soap after a hard day's washing." "I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic voice from the window. "Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah said sharply. "Young leddies should have more sense than go fasting so many hours." As it was evident that Hannah had no intention of leaving the room till she saw Meg sitting at the table, the girl came back and sat down. "See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a low, admonitory voice to Anthony. "She's pretty far through." The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony came and sat down behind it. "I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've drunk one cup of tea, eaten one piece of bread-and-butter and one egg, you're not to speak one word. _I_ will talk."