“And she is really sorry for him,” said Frau von Eckthum.
“Indeed?” thought I, entertained by the patronizing attitude implied.
“She says,” continued her gentle sister, “that his loneliness, whether he knows it or not, makes her ache.”
Well, I did not mind Mrs. Menzies-Legh aching, so thought nothing definite there.
“She doesn’t want him to notice we get out of his way—she is afraid he might be hurt. Do you think he would be?”
“No,” said Jellaby. “Pure leather.”
I agreed, though once again surprised at Jellaby’s baseness.
“I can’t think,” continued Frau von Eckthum—“I suppose it’s because I am so bad—but I really cannot think how she can endure him, and in such doses.”
“He is undoubtedly,” said Jellaby, “a very grievous bounder.”
“What,” I wondered, “is a bounder?” But I applauded Jellaby’s sentiment nevertheless, for there was no mistaking its nature, though his baseness was really amazing.