"Yes, they practically admitted that they hoped it would please him. But after all, Julian, 'all the world loves a lover.'"
"Does it?" said Sir Julian expressively. "Did all this conversation take place at tea this afternoon, may I ask, in the presence of the smirking Iris herself?"
Lady Rossiter looked pained at the extreme unkindness of the adjective selected by her husband.
"Iris didn't come in till later, though, as a matter of fact, her arrival interrupted us when there were several points still unsettled. One thing, though, rather vexed me."
"What was that?" asked Sir Julian, rather wearily, aware that he would be told whether he enquired or whether he did not, and for once choosing the less unamiable course.
"There was some idea," Lady Rossiter understated the case, "of getting the actual presentation itself made by the most unsuitable person they could very well have selected—that unfortunate courtesan manquée, the superintendent woman."
If Lady Rossiter wished to see the effect of her pleasant epithet upon her husband, she was doomed to disappointment. The complete silence in which he received it impelled her to continue.
"It is a very disagreeable word to apply to any woman, but I fail to see what else one can call her. We know that she entangled one, very young, man, with money and position, and then threw him over in a peculiarly heartless manner, and that she is now taking every advantage of poor Mark's miserable situation to try and involve him in an affair that can only mean scandal and misery, however it ends."
"I fail to see how the reckless career which you impute to Miss Marchrose, Edna, can possibly affect the quality of the silver salt-cellars, or whatever it is, that she is to present to Iris."
"Ah, Julian—a young girl, pure, innocent, unsullied! How could one see it, without a sense of profanation? Call it fanciful if you like, but there is something in me that could never bear to allow that."