"I don't think I feel equal to a baby. Come and see me on your way back. How's Phil?"
Grace's cheeks could still flush at the sound of his name.
"I think he is going to leave the theatre. He has so many pupils now, and it's torture to him to play the same trash night after night. We shall manage quite well, and he wants more time for composing."
"Oh, poor me! I shall have to hear the writhings of his genius all of every night. Tell him to come and see me. That will keep him quiet for a little while. Will you pull down the blind, and tell Bessie I'm going to sleep? She comes in every five minutes with something on a plate, and it grows a little monotonous."
"If you're not better to-night, I shall send for the doctor."
"Then I shall be better. I'm glad I'm at home again."
"So am I. I didn't like him, Terry."
"I like him very much."
"I mean, I didn't like him for you, and I feel—I feel as if you've escaped out of an ogre's castle!"
"Ah, if he had been more ogreish, I might have stayed for the fun of it. Let's thank God he is just a man."