"That's quite all right. She told me all about it. I told her it was just nerves, that morning. She thought it was, too. You must take better care of yourself. But Wenny, where have you been?" "Looking for a job." "You poor child! Look, I've got to go to the Touraine. We can wash up and go up to Nan's. She said she'd be in at teatime." "No, I'd rather not." "You must come, Wenny. O, when will you grow up? Let's walk along, we're obstructing traffic." "First, you must lend me fifty cents," said Wenny with a dry little laugh. "I'm most split with hunger." "Can't you wait till we get out to Nan's? She'll have tea for us." "No, I can't, Fanshaw, you old fool. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning, or maybe it was the day before that." "Good God! There's Dupont's opposite. Let's go up there, a horrid place, but you won't mind eating something there, will you? But Wenny, why didn't you tell me you were all out of money?" As they climbed the stair a smell of food and baking powder filled Wenny's nostrils. He inhaled it eagerly. In the restaurant it was very stuffy, a couple of waitresses in starched aprons were sitting at tables. A grimy man in his shirtsleeves carried in a tray of freshwashed glasses in through a green baize door. As Wenny pulled off his overcoat he thought he was going to faint. Letting the coat drop to the floor he grabbed the table and lowered himself into a chair. The expression of consternation on Fanshaw's face as he picked up the coat made him laugh so that his eyes filled with tears. "Well, what will you have? Don't eat too much, it might make you sick." "O, Fanshaw, you're such an old woman." The waitress, a rawboned woman with dead cod's eyes, hung over the table threateningly. "Bring me some boiled eggs and tea and toast right away, please." Something in Wenny exulted strangely under the hostile glare of the waitress as she looked at his muddy shoes and unshaven chin. "Three minutes?" "Yes, and quickly please." The waitress rustled starchily away. "How funny Fanshaw, I'd been thinking of boiled eggs for hours and I never thought about their being three minutes." "But, where have you been, you poor child?... I've been to Cham Mason's wedding." "Heaps of wonderful places.... I've been finding my place in society." "Where?" "On the benches." "But, why didn't you go to the Alumni Employment Bureau? They'd have found you a job." "I didn't want that kind of a job." The smell of the bread the waitress set before him was overpoweringly sweet. His fingers trembled so he spilt half the egg on the side of the glass breaking it. He ate hurriedly without tasting anything.