"Oh, rubbish! only, it doesn't seem the thing."
"Decidedly not, decidedly not."
"Oh, rubbish! she's as safe here as if she were with her grandfather—what I mean to say is this, she's so innocent of the world that she does things quite innocently that—that conventional people don't do, don't you know. She has no mother."
"Poor young thing!"
"And her father, who is one of the jolliest men in the world, lets her do anything she likes. I wish I had a female of some sort to receive her here, but I haven't," said Mr Leavesley, looking round the studio as if in search of the article in question.
"I know of an eminently respectable female," said Mr Verneede meditatively, "who would fall in with your requirements; unfortunately, she is not available at a short notice; she lives in Hoxton, as a matter of fact."
"That's no use, might as well live in the moon. No matter, you'll do, an excellent substitute like What's-his-name's marmalade."
"May I ask," said Mr Verneede, rather stiffly, as if slightly ruffled by this last remark, "is this young lady, from a worldly point of view, an éligible partie?"
"Don't know, she's a most lovable girl. I met them in Paris, she and her father, and travelled back with them. They have a big house up at Highgate, and an estate somewhere in the country, but, somehow, I fancy their affairs are involved. Mr Lambert always seems to be going to law with people. No matter, I want to get some cakes—cakes and tea are the right sort of things to offer a person—a girl—wine is impossible. What's the time? After two! Wait here for me, I won't be long."