“Eet was jus’ a lie that Manuelo he was my brothair. Manuelo, he ees the belove’ of my heart.”
“The devil he is!” The Honourable Tony’s voice was edged with mild interest. “And may I ask why the brotherly transformation?”
“What ees that?”
“Why the lie, Daisy?”
“Because men, too well do I know them. Ah, ah, too well! Eef I say to Meestair Ledyar’, to that black devil out from hell, to your own self, Honable Tonee, that eet ees tryin’ to save the belove’ of my heart that I go crezzy in my haid and die two thousan’ death from terror, you think they lissen to me then? You think they help me then? Well, me, I think not.”
“And me, I think not, too!” agreed the Honourable Tony promptly. “Quite a student of human nature, in your quiet way, aren’t you, Daisy? I say, do let’s have some light on this! I don’t think that Manuelo would fancy it for a moment if he knew that we were all huddled up here in the pitch-black whispering things at each other.”
“Manuelo, one thousan’ time he have tell me eef he fin’ me with a man alone, he cut the heart out from our body.”
“Perhaps it’s all for the best that he’s going to remain in the tin mines,” suggested the Honourable Tony philosophically. “No cloud without a silver lining, what? However, I’m going to humour Manuelo to the extent of seeing that we have all the light that a large lamp can cast over what I trust is going to prove a brief interview. Do stop whimpering, there’s a good child!”
“Honable Tonee, thees lamp you mus’ not light. See, no longer I cry—no longer I make one soun’—only thees lamp you mus’ not light. No, wait, you do not onnerstan’——”
“You’re putting it conservatively, Daisy!”