“Precisely,” she said with firmness. “In my country, James, the wives of best friends haven't the same moral standing that they appear to have in yours. Oh, don't scowl so! Shall I tell you again that I do not mean to reflect on Mrs Desmond's virtue—or discretion? Far from it. If she is to be my friend, she cannot be your housekeeper. That's the point. Has she any means of her own? Can she——”
“She has a small income, and an annuity which I took out for her soon after her poor husband's death. We were the closest of friends——”
“I understand, James. You are very generous and very loyal. I quite understand. Losing her position here, then, will not be a hardship?”
“No,” said he soberly.
“I am quite competent, James,” she said brightly. “You will not miss her, I am sure.”
“It isn't that, Yvonne,” he sighed. “Mrs Desmond and Lydia have been factors in my life for so long that—— But, of course, that is neither here nor there. I will explain the situation to her to-morrow. She will understand.”
“Thank you, James. You are really quite reasonable.”
“Are you laughing at me, darling?”
She gave him one of her searching, unfathomable glances, and she smiled with roguish mirth.
“Isn't it your mission in life to amuse and entertain me?”