'And how right! I've had rather the same idea in my house, but I couldn't keep it up. It's different for a man alone; things seem to accumulate; especially pictures. I know such a lot of artists. I'm very unfortunate in that respect…. I really feel I oughtn't to have turned up like this, Mrs Ottley.'
'Why not?'
'You're very kind…. Excuse my country manners, but how nice your husband is. He was very kind to me.'
'He liked you very much, too.'
'He seems charming,' he repeated, then said with a change of tone and with his occasional impulsive brusqueness, 'I wonder—does he ever jar on you in any way?'
'Oh no. Never. He couldn't. He amuses me,' Edith replied softly.
'Oh, does he?… If I had the opportunity I wonder if I should amuse you,' he spoke thoughtfully.
'No; I don't think you would at all,' said Edith, looking him straight in the face.
'That's quite fair,' he laughed, and seemed rather pleased. 'You mean I should bore you to death! Do forgive me, Mrs Ottley. Let's go on with our talk of last night…. I feel it's rather like the Palace of Truth here; I don't know why. There must be something in the atmosphere—I seem to find it difficult not to think aloud—Vincy, now—do you see much of Vincy?'
'Oh yes; he comes here most days, or we talk on the telephone.'