“It’s a very curious sort of way.”
“Indeed it is; but if it is good enough for me it ought to be good enough for you. What I want you to do is this—to induce her to ask me over to dine.”
“To induce her—?” Hyacinth murmured.
“Tell her I’m staying at Bonchester and it would be an act of common humanity.”
They proceeded till they reached the gates, and in a moment Hyacinth said, “You took up the social question, then, because she did; but do you happen to know why she took it up?”
“Ah, my dear fellow, you must find that out for yourself. I found you the place, but I can’t do your work for you!”
“I see—I see. But perhaps you’ll tell me this: if you had free access to the Princess a year ago, taking her to the theatre and that sort of thing, why shouldn’t you have it now?”
This time Sholto’s white pupils looked strange again. “You have it now, my dear fellow, but I’m afraid it doesn’t follow that you’ll have it a year hence. She was tired of me then, and of course she’s still more tired of me now, for the simple reason that I’m more tiresome. She has sent me to Coventry, and I want to come out for a few hours. See how conscientious I am—I won’t pass the gates.”
“I’ll tell her I met you,” said Hyacinth. Then, irrelevantly, he added, “Is that what you mean by her having no heart?”
“Her treating me as she treats me? Oh, dear, no; her treating you!”