"Do go out, Blanche, I don't need you here." Mrs. Steele looks a little self-reproached.
"No, dear, I know you don't care about my staying," I answer, "but I'm a little tired of the deck."
The "Church of England" drones on about Nellie, who is "such a child, only seventeen; so unsophisticated and so unworldly."
"Just imagine, she quite snubs that handsome Peruvian nobleman, and he is really delightful, you know."
We draw a simultaneous sigh of relief when the "Church of England" leaves us to ourselves.
"Blanche," says Mrs. Steele, "you've been fighting again with the Baron. Those Rogers people would be only too glad to attach him to their party. I wouldn't let them do it if I were you. It would be too much of a feather in their cap to have distracted him from us after his very palpable devotion and our unusual friendliness."
"No, dear, I won't let our interpreter be wiled away from us. Leave him to me. He's very exasperating at times, but I'll bear with him in future; there's no denying it would be comparatively stupid without him."
Mrs. Steele raises the bandage from her eyes and looks at me.
"It strikes me you are about to experience a change of heart. If it were almost any other girl, I'd say beware!"
I laugh with confident unconcern.