“That’s as may be, sir, but I have some friendship with Sir Anthony, and I say beware!”
He shook his head, but it was more in sorrow than in anger. “Still you do not sufficiently appreciate me,” he said.
“It’s conceivable, sir, you don’t sufficiently appreciate the large gentleman.”
My lady smiled. “Ah, my cabbage, you have a too great opinion of ce gros Sir Anthony! He sees no further than the end of his nose.”
“You’re mistaken, ma’am. He sees more than the rest of them put together.” She hesitated. “He watches me. That I know. Something he suspects: not much, but a little.”
My lady looked incredulous. “Not you, my child? But no!”
“Oh, not that! Well, who lives may learn. But I’ve warned you, sir.”
“The little Prudence!” My lord smiled affably. “So cautious!”
“You named me Prudence, sir.”
He was inclined to suspect a hitherto unperceived foresight in himself. “And wisely! A premonition. I must surely have known.”