“You dear old Cheetah, you can't be always frisking about in the wilderness, staring at the stars.”
“But I'm not going back to live in London in the old way, theatres, dinner-parties, chatter—”
“Oh no! We aren't going to do that sort of thing. We aren't going to join the ruck. We'll go about in holiday times all over the world. I want to see Fusiyama. I mean to swim in the South Seas. With you. We'll dodge the sharks. But all the same we shall have to have a house in London. We have to be FELT there.”
She met his consternation fairly. She lifted her fine eyebrows. Her little face conveyed a protesting reasonableness.
“Well, MUSTN'T we?”
She added, “If we want to alter the world we ought to live in the world.”
Since last they had disputed the question she had thought out these new phrases.
“Amanda,” he said, “I think sometimes you haven't the remotest idea of what I am after. I don't believe you begin to suspect what I am up to.”
She put her elbows on her knees, dropped her chin between her hands and regarded him impudently. She had a characteristic trick of looking up with her face downcast that never failed to soften his regard.
“Look here, Cheetah, don't you give way to your early morning habit of calling your own true love a fool,” she said.