“How shall I ever see her?” returned Mr Vetch. “In the absence of that privilege I think there is something in my idea.”
“She looks quite over my head,” said Hyacinth, simply. “It’s by no means impossible you may see her. She wants to know my friends, to know the people who live in the Place. And she would take a particular interest in you, on account of your opinions.”
“Ah, I have no opinions now, none any more!” the old man broke out, sadly. “I only had them to frighten Pinnie.”
“She was easily frightened,” said Hyacinth.
“Yes, and easily reassured. Well, I like to know about your life,” his neighbour sighed, irrelevantly. “But take care the great lady doesn’t lead you too far.”
“How do you mean, too far?”
“Isn’t she an anarchist—a nihilist? Doesn’t she go in for a general rectification, as Eustace calls it?”
Hyacinth was silent a moment. “You should see the place—you should see what she wears, what she eats and drinks.”
“Ah, you mean that she is inconsistent with her theories? My dear boy, she would be a droll woman if she were not. At any rate, I’m glad of it.”
“Glad of it?” Hyacinth repeated.