“Oh—he was—a—a man.”
“Yes, I gathered that with the naked eye.”
“Incredible, Holmes—it passes human understanding.”
“It passes human understanding what that gentleman in shirt sleeves was doing, cooking asparagus in your room.”
“No scandal about asparagus, I hope?”
“They reeked of it—that night.”
Deb moved restlessly. “Don’t be priggish, Antonia.”
“It isn’t priggishness. Oh, do understand that. It’s—decency. Not towards other people, but towards one’s self. I don’t care about conventions.... Yes, I do—they prevent litter and disorder—and they can’t really get deep enough to handicap the emotions. What I meant was that I don’t care about opinion. I do as I like.”
“Well then ... So do I.”
“No. A man in your bedroom for an hour or two, just to talk to ... and then good-night—that’s not doing as you like. He shouldn’t have been there at all. Taking you and your room for granted. And your lips.”