“Greening her, filling her head with all sorts of nonsensical delusions, painting my portrait for her in all the colours of the rainbow. Oh, I know my Burrell. He’s tried to stuff me up, too, about her.”
“Oh? Has he? What has he said?” she questioned eagerly.
“The usual rubbishy things one does say, when one wants to stuff a fellow up.”
“For instance?”
“Oh, that she’s tremendously good-looking, with hair and eyes and things, and very charming.”
“What a dear good person the man named Burrell must be,” she murmured.
“He’s not a bad chap,” he conceded, “but you must remember that he’s her solicitor.”
“And, remembering that, you weren’t to be stuffed?” she said.
“If she was charming and good-looking, it was a reason the more for avoiding her,” said he.
“Oh?” She looked perplexed.