As the door closed—
“Of course,” said the lady, “you want to force my hand. You want that flat in Hill Street, and that’s that.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said her squire. “I’m for peace in our time. If you want The Eighty-nine Steps, you have ’em. If you want a midget wash-house, say the blinkin’ word. After all, we can always cut the cork mat down. I’m only out to——”
“You want that flat in Hill Street,” declared Julia. “And you’re out to crab everything else. And I suppose by a process of exhaustion you’ll get your way.”
Hubert Challenger sighed.
“ ‘Exhaustion’ is good,” he said wearily. “Never mind. Let me repeat, my lady, that I do not care. I’ve criticized as a third party, purely to facilitate your choice. As a future inhabitant of the kiosk, you can count me out.”
“Don’t you take any interest in your own—your own——”
“Dunghill?” said Hubert cheerfully. His fiancée stiffened. “To a certain extent. But that extent has been reached.”
“Exactly,” observed Miss Willow. “It was reached in Hill Street.”
“I won’t say it wasn’t,” said Hubert. “First, because it was the forty-second covert we had drawn, and, secondly, because the best is good enough for me. When I’ve been offered a peach, you can bury the cooking apples under the lilacs. But that’s neither here nor there. Bed me down where you like, my dear, and I’ll be all grateful.”