“But—!” said Scrope.
“The'e's a sort of g'andeur,” she said. “It's young Venable's wo'k. It's his fl'st g'ate oppo'tunity.”
“But—is this to go on that little site in Aldwych?”
“He says the' isn't 'oom the'!” she explained. “He wants to put it out at Golda's G'een.”
“But—if it is to be this little simple chapel we proposed, then wasn't our idea to be central?”
“But if the' isn't 'oem!” she said—conclusively. “And isn't this—isn't it rather a costly undertaking, rather more costly—”
“That doesn't matta. I'm making heaps and heaps of money. Half my p'ope'ty is in shipping and a lot of the 'eat in munitions. I'm 'icher than eva. Isn't the' a sort of g'andeur?” she pressed.
He put the elevation down. He took the plan from her hands and seemed to study it. But he was really staring blankly at the whole situation.
“Lady Sunderbund,” he said at last, with an effort, “I am afraid all this won't do.”
“Won't do!”