“She’s as pleased as Punch,” said the Duchess.
“Those great calm women—they like slighter creatures.”
“The great calm whales,” the Duchess laughed, “swallow the little fishes.”
“Oh my dear,” Mrs. Brook returned, “Harold can be tasted, if you like—”
“If I like?” the Duchess parenthetically jeered. “Thank you, love!”
“But he can’t, I think, be eaten. It all works out,” Mrs. Brook expounded, “to the highest end. If Lady Fanny’s amused she’ll be quiet.”
“Bless me,” cried the Duchess, “of all the immoral speeches—! I put it to you, Longdon. Does she mean”—she appealed to their friend—“that if she commits murder she won’t commit anything else?”
“Oh it won’t be murder,” said Mrs. Brook. “I mean that if Harold, in one way and another, keeps her along, she won’t get off.”
“Off where?” Mr. Longdon risked.
Vanderbank immediately informed him. “To one of the smaller Italian towns. Don’t you know?”