"It's the solemn truth, mother; the Vicomte has a dual existence."
"But my dear child—the monkey-house! What could Jeremy Carnby have been thinking of, to take you to such a place?"
"He didn't. I took him."
"But one never knows what one might catch there—typhoid—or—or fleas, my dear!"
Madame Palffy shuddered, and returned to her salts.
"Fleas, mother? I never thought of that possibility, but if I had, it would only have been an added inducement. Never having met a flea, I am sure I should enjoy the experience. You know what somebody says? 'Incomparably the bravest of all the creatures of God.' And, above all things, I adore courage."
Here was an auspicious beginning to a serious conversation! In sheer desperation, Madame Palffy assumed her society manner.
"Margery," she said, "you're quite old enough to take care of yourself; though, to speak frankly, you have a somewhat peculiar method of doing so. Let us abandon the monkeys for the present. I have something to say to you. I—I—"
She hesitated for an instant, and then proceeded resolutely.