‘Oh, I think so—I think so,’ says Wyndham thoughtfully.
‘Is he young or old?’ asks Josephine, who feels she ought to show some interest in his affairs.
Wyndham remains wrapt up in thought for a moment, then apparently wakes up.
‘Oh, the tenant,’ says he dreamily. ‘Not old; no, not old!’
‘At that rate you must introduce us to him,’ says Mrs. Prior, with quite surprising archness. ‘Solvent and not old! Quite a desirable acquaintance! What is his name, Paul?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Wyndham.
‘Not know? But, my dear Paul!’
‘I positively don’t,’ says Wyndham, in quite a loud voice. It occurs to Crosby that now at last he is telling the truth, and that he is wildly glad at being able to do so. But the truth! Where does it come in? Crosby grows curious. ‘Strange as it may sound, the name is unknown to me. And for the matter of that nothing is settled. There have been only preliminaries. There must always be preliminaries, you know,’ talking briskly to his aunt.
‘Well, be careful,’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘And whatever you do, Paul, don’t take a lady tenant. They are so difficult. Now promise me, Paul, you won’t take a lady as a tenant.’
Providentially, at this moment the very late supper is announced, and Paul, rising, gives his arm to Josephine, after which the conversation drifts into other channels.