“Then show him in, you stupid child.”
The face of Victoria May Alice cleared. She strode theatrically to the door, flung it open like a footman, and, suppressing a spluttered guffaw, announced mock-heroically:
“Mr. Eustace Lovegood!”
Lovegood walked in tragically—halted before Victoria May Alice, and put his hand on her head:
“Victoria May Alice,” said he, “you will never do for the Embassy. You do not take the world seriously. When you announce genius you must shout it fearlessly, as though you had thrust a benefit upon the world—not as though you were hurriedly hiding away undarned stockings in a coffee canister.”
Victoria May Alice muffled a snigger in her hands and skipped from the room.
Lovegood turned to his hostess:
“Ah, Caroline!” He advanced down the room slowly: “Your devoted slave—Noll’s devoted slave! Ha! Mr. Gomme, your servant! Miss Julia! I am your footstool.”
Caroline rose to meet him. She smiled:
“You wished to see me, Eustace!” she asked.