‘Well, as you see yourself,’ says Wyndham desperately, ‘Mrs. Moriarty does not seem capable of looking after it. It is an awful bore, you know, and’—with a rush of affection hitherto unborn—‘the idea of her having kept you out of the place seems to put an end to my trust in her for ever.’
Crosby flicks a little point of dust off his coat-sleeve. ‘Oh, the handsome liar!’ thinks he.
‘But, my dear boy, you must not be too precipitate. A word to her would perhaps——’
‘I’ve quite made up my mind,’ says Wyndham steadfastly. ‘I shall look out for a tenant.’
‘Dear Paul!’ says Mrs. Prior, touched by this nephew-like act, ‘I of course appreciate your sweetness in this matter. It is very dear of you to be so angry about the woman’s incivility to me, and if you have made up your mind about getting a tenant for the dear old Cottage, I think I can help you.’
Here Crosby leans forward. It is proving very interesting.
‘You mustn’t take any trouble,’ says Wyndham; ‘I couldn’t allow you.’
‘It will be no trouble—for you,’ says Josephine, breaking into the conversation very affectionately.
‘Thanks awfully, but I think I’ve got a desirable tenant in my eye,’ says Wyndham—‘one suitable in every respect.’
‘The real thing is to know if he is solvent,’ says Mrs. Prior.