Edith was already in a somewhat hilarious mood. Lady Conroy didn't irritate her; she amused her almost more than any friend she had. Besides, once she could be got to concentrate on any one subject, nobody was more entertaining. Edith's English humour delighted in her friend's Irish wit.
There was something singularly Irish in the way Lady Conroy managed to make a kind of muddle and untidiness all round her, when she had been in a room a minute or two. When she had entered the room, it was a fine-looking apartment, rather sparsely furnished, with very little in it, all severest First Empire style. There were a few old portraits on striped pale green walls, and one large basket of hot-house flowers on a small table. Yet, since her entrance, the room already looked as if several people had been spending the week in it without tidying it up. Almost mechanically Edith picked up her bag, books, newspaper, cigarettes and the glasses.
'Well, then, you don't think Madame Frabelle would do?' said Lady
Conroy.
'My dear Lady Conroy, Madame Frabelle wouldn't dream of going as a companion or secretary. You want a young girl. She's about fifteen years older than you are and she's staying with me as my guest. I shouldn't even suggest such a thing.'
'Why not? It wouldn't be at all a hard place.'
'No, I know. But she doesn't want a place. She's very well off, remember.'
'Good heavens, she can't have much to do then if she's only staying with you,' said Lady Conroy.
'Oh, she has plenty of engagements. No, I shouldn't advise Madame
Frabelle. But I do know of someone.'
'Do you? Oh, darling Edith, how sweet of you. Oh, just ring the bell for me, will you?'
Edith rang.