“Monsieur is staying here?” asked Alcibiades, blinking his little eyes.
“For a time—yes!”
“Aha! Monsieur is the friend of my dear Andros, so to myself he is also a dear friend. I lay myself at your feet, monsieur.”
“Very kind of you,” retorted Maurice, who was not at all pleased by the implied friendship.
“Monsieur is rich?”
“What’s that to do with you?”
“Eh, my faith! do not be angry, monsieur. All Englishmen are rich.”
“That is a common delusion with you foreigners. All Englishmen are not rich.”
Alcibiades shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in the French fashion.
“Monsieur is disposed to be witty.”