“Well, principally, that you’re a friend of mine—that’s enough for her.”
“Do you mean that it ought to be enough for me that she’s a friend of yours? I have a notion you’ll have some queer ones before you’re done; a good many more than I have time to talk to. And how can I go to see a delicate female, with those paws?” Muniment inquired, exhibiting ten work-stained fingers.
“Buy a pair of gloves,” said Hyacinth, who recognised the serious character of this obstacle. But after a moment he added, “No, you oughtn’t to do that; she wants to see dirty hands.”
“That’s easy enough; she needn’t send for me for the purpose. But isn’t she making game of you?”
“It’s very possible, but I don’t see what good it can do her.”
“You are not obliged to find excuses for the pampered classes. Their bloated luxury begets evil, impudent desires; they are capable of doing harm for the sake of harm. Besides, is she genuine?”
“If she isn’t, what becomes of your explanation?” asked Hyacinth.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter; at night all cats are gray. Whatever she is, she’s an idle, bedizened jade.”
“If you had seen her, you wouldn’t talk of her that way.”
“God forbid I should see her, then, if she’s going to corrupt me!”