“Well, I’m going to call you Superbus. Take that look off your face and stop looking round corners.”
Mr. Superbus obeyed. He was for a while disappointed.
“Lord, sir, did you recognise me?” he asked. “Maybe Mrs. Ford told you?”
Bobbie smiled derisively.
“Recognise you! Good heavens, why, you absolutely shouted! I spotted you the moment I saw you!”
“That’s funny,” said Mr. Superbus. “My good lady always says that when I disguise my face that way she would pass me in the street.”
“How can you blame her? Who wouldn’t pass you in the street with that face? Even your wife has some illusions left, I suppose. Now, Superbus, what is the game?”
Julius was all innocence. A wreath of wild flowers about his head would not have made him more coyishly artless. Bobbie was not deceived.
“Game, sir?”
“Why are you in this house, got up like a comic seneschal? Does Miss Ford know who you are?”