Work Title

The Supper


Joan Fuller


"The stew is delicious, Miss Prand," he said, and the tight bodice of her dress seemed suddenly to pinch with the expansion of her pleasure. She knotted her fingers together in her lap under the edge of the table cloth.

"You really like stew, Mr. Crawley?" she asked. She had made it very carefully but she had been afraid it was too ordinary.

"Very much."

He was such a tall and handsome man and with such a voice. She hadn't had anyone like him rent her front room for a long time. Of course she didn't give any of the other lodgers' meals, but he had seemed so anxious and he looked kind of thin. Besides, what did one matter. And just cooking for herself and fixing Aunt Ann's tray she was getting kind of rusty.



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