“And doesn’t he know his own mother?”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of mothers.”
“Who were you thinking of?”
“The ladies who have lost their hearts to him.”
“I see. Are you one of them?”
“I am not. You see, his beauty has never struck me all of a heap, because I’ve got so used to it.”
“Is he a beautiful baby, or a youth, or a man?”
“A bit of all three. He stands 6 ft. 5 ½ in., and is superbly handsome. I call him sometimes, for variation, the stuffed blue-and-gold Apollo.”
“Well, that’s better than ‘a positive worm’,” laughing, “but I don’t mind him. Who is Quin?”
“Quin is a philanthropist, sentimentalist, and hero. He spends his life working in the East End.”