'What!' exclaimed Lady Everard. 'Are you referring to Mrs Ottley?' She calmed down again. 'Oh yes, she's charming, awfully sweet—devoted to her husband, you know—absolutely devoted to her husband; so rare and delightful nowadays in London.'
'Oh yes, ver' nice. Me, I am devoted to 'er husband too. I go to see him. He ask me.'
'What, without me?' exclaimed Lady Everard.
'I meet him the other night. He ask me to come round and sing him a song. I cannot ask if I may bring Lady Everard in my pocket.'
'Really, Paul, I don't think that quite a nice joke to make, I must say.' Then relenting she said: 'I know it's only your artistic fun.'
'So she ver' devoted to him? He have great confidence in her; he trust her quite; he sure she never have any flirt?'
'He has every confidence; he's certain, absolutely certain!' exclaimed
Lady Everard.
'He wait till she come and tell him, I suppose. 'E is right.'
He continued in this strain for some time, constantly going back to his admiration for Edith, and then began (with a good deal of bitterness) on the subject of another young singer, whom he declared to be un garçon charmant, but no good. 'He could not sing for nuts.'
She heartily agreed, and they began to get on beautifully again, when she suddenly said to him: