The Princess stared. “Do you mean that you are giving up—?”
“A fine stiff conservative is a thing I perfectly understand,” said Paul Muniment. “If I were on the top, I’d stick there.”
“I see, you are not narrow,” the Princess murmured, appreciatively.
“I beg your pardon, I am. I don’t call that wide. One must be narrow to penetrate.”
“Whatever you are, you’ll succeed,” said the Princess. “Hyacinth won’t, but you will.”
“It depends upon what you call success!” the young man exclaimed. And in a moment, before she replied, he added, looking about the room, “You’ve got a very lovely dwelling.”
“Lovely? My dear sir, it’s hideous. That’s what I like it for,” the Princess added.
“Well, I like it; but perhaps I don’t know the reason. I thought you had given up everything—pitched your goods out of the window, for a grand scramble.”
“Well, so I have. You should have seen me before.”
“I should have liked that,” said Muniment, smiling. “I like to see solid wealth.”