Pomeroy sighed.
“Of course,” he said, “the trouble is that I’m just an ordinary ass. If I was a half-baked worm with a game spine we should have our arms round one another’s necks.”
“And if,” said Belinda sweetly, “you were a gentleman, you’d get up and beg my pardon and walk right out of this house.”
“What, an’ leave my luggage?” said Pomeroy.
Belinda shrugged her shoulders.
“That,” she said, “could be thrown after you.”
Pomeroy closed his eyes.
“I should simply hate,” he murmured, “to be a gentleman.”
With a look of unutterable contempt, Miss Seneschal re-ascended the table and folded her arms.
“The villa belongs,” she announced, “to the one who’s in possession.”