“Well, you see it isn’t. Mr. Longdon can manage it.”
“I don’t see what the devil’s the matter with her,” he coldly continued.
“Ah that may not prevent—! It’s fortunately the source at any rate of half Mr. Longdon’s interest.”
“But what the hell IS it?” he drearily demanded.
She faltered a little, but she brought it out. “It’s ME.”
“And what’s the matter with ‘you’?”
She made, at this, a movement that drew his eyes to her own, and for a moment she dimly smiled at him. “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me. But ever, EVER, you know.”
“Is it?” She had her hand on his sleeve, and he looked almost awkward.
“Quite the very nicest. Consider that fact well and even if you only said it by accident don’t be funny—as you know you sometimes CAN be—and take it back. It’s all right. It’s charming, isn’t it? when our troubles bring us more together. Now go up to her.”
Edward kept a queer face, into which this succession of remarks introduced no light, but he finally moved, and it was only when he had almost reached the door that he stopped again. “Of course you know he has sent her no end of books.”