“Come and talk while I wash,” Trent said shortly. “Dinner's on, and I'm hungry.”
“Certainly, certainly,” Da Souza murmured, closing the door behind them as they entered the lavatory. “It is concerning these young ladies.”
“What! Miss Montressor and her friend?” Trent remarked thrusting his head into the cold water. “Phew!”
“Exactly! Two very charming young ladies, my dear friend, very charming indeed, but a little—don't you fancy just a little fast!”
“Hadn't noticed it,” Trent answered, drying himself. “What about it?”
Da Souza tugged at his little black imperial, and moved uneasily about.
“We—er—men of the world, my dear Trent, we need not be so particular, eh?—but the ladies—the ladies are so observant.”
“What ladies?” Trent asked coolly.
“It is my wife who has been talking to me,” Da Souza continued. “You see, Julie is so young—our dear daughter she is but a child; and, as my wife says, we cannot be too particular, too careful, eh; you understand!”
“You want them to go? Is that it?”