“SHE won’t want to come?”
Her friend’s laugh turned him to her. “Don’t be nervous. There are things as to which your mother trusts me.”
“But others as to which not.”
Their eyes met for some time on this, and it ended in his saying: “Well, you must help me.” Nanda, but without shrinking, looked away again, and Mr. Longdon, as if to consecrate their understanding by the air of ease, passed to another subject. “Mr. Mitchett’s the most princely host.”
“Isn’t he too kind for anything? Do you know what he pretends?” Nanda went on. “He says in the most extraordinary way that he does it all for ME.”
“Takes this great place and fills it with servants and company—?”
“Yes, just so that I may come down for a Sunday or two. Of course he has only taken it for three or four weeks, but even for that time it’s a handsome compliment. He doesn’t care what he does. It’s his way of amusing himself. He amuses himself at our expense,” the girl continued.
“Well, I hope that makes up, my dear, for the rate at which we’re doing so at his!”
“His amusement,” said Nanda, “is to see us believe what he says.”
Mr. Longdon thought a moment. “Really, my child, you’re most acute.”