"When Jill," she said, "becomes the Duchess of Padua, what bloods we shall be."
"She isn't there yet," said I.
"Where?"
"My sweet," said I, "I apologise. I was using a figure of speech, which is at once slipshod and American."
"That," said my wife, "is the worst of being English. You're like the Indian tailor who was given a coat to copy and reproduced a tear in the sleeve. Imitation can be too faithful. Never mind. I forgive you."
"D'you hear that, Nobby?" The terrier started to his feet. "Did you hear what the woman said? That we, who have founded precedents from time immemorial—that you and I, who taught America to walk——"
"He's Welsh," said Adèle.
"I don't care. It's scandalous. Who defiled the Well of English? And now we're blamed for drinking the water."
Adèle looked out of the window and smiled at a cloud.
"Once," she said slowly, "once I asked you if you would have known I was an American…. And when you said 'Yes,' I asked you why…. Do you remember your answer? … Of course," she added swiftly, "that was before we were married."