She frowned—vaguely stirred to irritation by his ill-concealed indifference. "I trust," she rejoined pointedly, "that you are satisfied with your trade in Grenoble."
The little shaft was meant to sting, but if Bobby felt any pain he certainly appeared to bear it with perfect good-humour.
"I am quite satisfied," he said. "I thank you, Mademoiselle."
"It must be very pleasing to conclude such affairs satisfactorily," she continued.
"Very pleasing, Mademoiselle."
"Of course—given the right temperament for such a career—it must be so much more comfortable to spend one's life in making money—buying and selling things and so on—rather than to risk it every day for the barren honour of serving one's king and country."
"As you say, Mademoiselle," he said quite imperturbably, "given the right temperament, it certainly is much more comfortable."
"And you, Sir, I take it, are the happy possessor of such a temperament."
"I suppose so, Mademoiselle."
"You are content to buy and to sell and to make money? to rest at ease and let the men who love their country and their king fight for you and for their ideals?"