Mitchy sketched a shrug. “What good does it do US?”
Mr. Longdon thought. “We can at least respect ourselves.”
“CAN we?” Mitchy smiled.
“And HE can respect us,” his friend, as if not hearing him, went on.
Mitchy seemed almost to demur. “He must think we’re ‘rum.’”
“Well, Mrs. Brook’s worse than rum. He can’t respect HER.”
“Oh that will be perhaps,” Mitchy laughed, “what she’ll get just most out of!” It was the first time of Mr. Longdon’s showing that even after a minute he had not understood him; so that as quickly as possible he passed to another point. “If you do anything may I be in it?”
“But what can I do? If it’s over it’s over.”
“For HIM, yes. But not for her or for you or for me.”
“Oh I’m not for long!” the old man wearily said, turning the next moment to the door, at which one of the footmen had appeared.