“He doesn’t know about your past?” Littlemore inquired, trying not to make the question sound impertinent.
“Oh yes; I’ve told him everything; but he doesn’t understand. One has to hold an Englishman by the head, you know, and kind of force it down. He has never heard of a woman being—” But here Mrs. Headway checked herself, while Littlemore filled out the blank. “What are you laughing at? It doesn’t matter,” she went on; “there are more things in the world than those people have heard of. However, I like them very much; at least I like him. He’s such a regular gentleman; do you know what I mean? Only, as he stays too long and he ain’t amusing, I’m very glad to see you for a change.”
“Do you mean I’m not a regular gentleman?” Littlemore asked.
“No indeed; you used to be out there. I think you were the only one—and I hope you are still. That’s why I recognised you the other night—I might have cut you, you know.”
“You can still, if you like. It’s not too late.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I want. I want you to help me.”
“To help you?”
Mrs. Headway fixed her eyes for a moment on the door. “Do you suppose that man is there still?”
“The member of Parliament?”
“No, I mean Max. Max is my courier,” said Mrs. Headway with some impressiveness.