"About all. He's queer. He's not Dickens or Scott, of course——" Her tone deprecated.
"Of course not," said Clare, with grave sympathy.
"But I like him. I like Chloe. I like the sisters—you know—'Fine Shades and Nice Feeling'——"
"Why?" Clare shot it at her.
"I don't know. They made me laugh. They're awfully real people. And I liked that book where the two gentlemen drink wine. 'Veuve' something."
"What on earth did you see in that?" Clare was amused.
"I don't know. I just liked them. Of course, I adore Shagpat."
"That I understand. It's a fairy tale to you, isn't it?"
"Not a proper one—only Arabian Nightsy."
"What's a proper one, Louise?"