“Do you like them?” she said. “Many of them we brought over with us from ‘across the seas,’ the others I ransacked London to get—at least, poor Mrs. Fellowes did.”
“Why poor?” he said.
“Because she has the misfortune to be my companion, and I worry her to death.”
“A pleasant death,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” she said. “That is the second compliment you have paid me. And yet they say you are not gallant, as the French have it.”
“It’s the heat,” said Jack, in his grim way.
“You will find some ices in the ante-room there, behind that lace curtain.”
“Shall I get you one?” said Jack.
She nodded.
“Thanks! Yes, that is the way,” and she rose to point to a winding path made through the rows of ferns and tropical plants.