By the time the servants had withdrawn they were exchanging news with zest. . . .
“So, really,” concluded Jeremy, settling himself in a chair, “I’ve—I’ve done very well. It’s a most entertaining job—smoothing down the indignant, humouring the whimsical, bluffing the undesirable, assisting the helpless, shepherding the vague. . . . I never had the faintest idea how many remarkable people are floating around. We had a fellow one day who stayed for six weeks. He went to bed when he arrived and he never got up. For six solid weeks he stayed in his bed. Nothing the matter with him. No suggestion of ill health. It was just his way of life. He did it wherever he went. Chauffeur and valet kicking their heels all day. He wouldn’t have the valet in his room except to shave him. Said he didn’t like his face. Then one day he got up and left for Naples. . . . I got off once—with an old English lady. She had a courier and two maids and travelled her own bath. She used to be ringing me up the whole day long, and she never went out or came in without speaking to me. It was most embarrassing. She gave me a cheque, when she left, for a hundred pounds. I tore it up, of course. . . .”
“You would,” said Eve.
“Well, I couldn’t take money like that.”
“Plenty of people do.”
“Yes, but . . .”
Eve leaned forward.
“She wanted you to have it, Jeremy. She was rich, and it gave her pleasure to spend her money like that. Your conscience was clear.”
Jeremy shifted in his chair.
“It wouldn’t ’ve been,” he said, “if I’d frozen on to it.”