There were only three other seats, for the introduction of the sofa (a question so profoundly studied in advance) had rendered necessary the elimination of certain articles; so that Muniment, on his feet, hovered round the little circle, with his hands in his pockets, laughing freely and sociably but not looking at the Princess; though, as Hyacinth was sure, he was none the less agitated by her presence.
“You ought to tell us about foreign parts and the grand things you have seen; except that, doubtless, our distinguished visitor knows all about them,” Muniment said to Hyacinth. Then he added, “Surely, at any rate, you have seen nothing more worthy of your respect than Camberwell.”
“Is this the worst part?” the Princess asked, looking up with her noble, interested face.
“The worst, madam? What grand ideas you must have! We admire Camberwell immensely.”
“It’s my brother’s ideas that are grand!” cried Rose Muniment, betraying him conscientiously. “He does want everything changed, no less than you, Princess; though he is more cunning than you, and won’t give one a handle where one can take him up. He thinks all this part most objectionable—as if dirty people won’t always make everything dirty where they live! I dare say he thinks there ought to be no dirty people, and it may be so; only if every one was clean, where would be the merit? You would get no credit for keeping yourself tidy. At any rate, if it’s a question of soap and water, every one can begin by himself. My brother thinks the whole place ought to be as handsome as Brompton.”
“Ah, yes, that’s where the artists and literary people live, isn’t it?” asked the Princess, attentively.
“I have never seen it, but it’s very well laid out,” Rosy rejoined, with her competent air.
“Oh, I like Camberwell better than that,” said Muniment, hilariously.
The Princess turned to Lady Aurora, and with the air of appealing to her for her opinion gave her a glance which travelled in a flash from the topmost bow of her large, misfitting hat to the crumpled points of her substantial shoes. “I must get you to tell me the truth,” she murmured. “I want so much to know London—the real London. It seems so difficult!”
Lady Aurora looked a little frightened, but at the same time gratified, and after a moment she responded, “I believe a great many artists live in St John’s Wood.”