'I should so like to know what you really think of us all,' he said on one of these occasions in his quiet, English-sounding voice.
'I adore you,' said she—' collectively, I mean.'
'Ah, that spoils it all,' said he; 'we all want to be adored individually.'
'There are too many of you for me to do that,' she said; 'I should have to cut my heart up into so many little bits. Wherever I go—there's a song about it—I leave my heart behind me. I always do that. People seem to me very nice.'
'You are taking the rest of the stuffing out,' remarked he in a slightly injured voice.
She laughed.
'Well, I find you all charming,' she said again. 'Will that do?'
'I suppose it will have to. And your friend, Lord Keynes?'
'Ah, he finds one person so charming that I don't think he thinks much about the rest,' she said. Look, there they are.'
Bilton did not look; he had already seen them; he usually saw things first.