"Have you got any string? Let a piece down."
I knew what that meant. He had been to the kitchens and was going to
send me up some supper. In other words, he was going to try and smooth
over his despicable behaviour.
"A coward! A sneak! I hate him!" I muttered, as I stood there close
to the window, as if unable to drag myself away, but listening greedily
all the while, as Mercer went on in an excited whisper, insulting me, as
I called it.
"Oh, I say, do speak, Frank," he said. "I can't stop long, and there'd
be a row if any one knew I came to you. I am so sorry, Frank. I've
been down to Polly Hopley's, and bought a lot of her turnovers and some
sweet tuck. I want to send it up to you. Haven't you any string?"