She studied him
carefully for quite a long time.
"Down on your luck, old chum?" she said at last."
"Yes, I am," Peter said, "a bit depressed."
"I know. I'm often that way myself. We all catch it. Come home and have a
bit of supper. That'll cheer you up."
"No, thanks," said Peter politely. "I must get back to my own place in a
minute."
"Well," said the lady. "Please yourself, and I'll have another drink if you
don't very much mind."
It was whilst he was ordering another drink that he came out of his own
thoughts and considered her.
"That's right," she said smiling, "have a good look. My name's Rose
Bennett. Here's my card. Perhaps you'd like to come and have tea with me
one day."
She gave him a very dirty card on which was written "Miss Rose Bennett, 4
Annton Street, Portland Place."
"You're Cornish," he suddenly said, looking at her.
She moved her soiled gloves up and down the little table--"Well, what if I
am?" she said defiantly, not looking at him.
"I knew it," said Peter triumphantly, "the way you rolled your r's--"
"Well, chuck it, dear," said Miss Bennett, "and let's talk sense. What's
Cornwall got to do with us anyhow?"
"I'm Cornish too," said Peter, "it's got a good deal to do with us. You
needn't tell me of course--but what part do you come from?"
Still sullenly she said: "Almost forgotten the name of it, so long ago.
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