“Buy a pair of gloves—” Hyacinth 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, good Lord! 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’re not obliged to find excuses for the pampered classes. Their bloated luxury begets evil, impudent desires; they’re capable of doing harm for the sake of harm. Besides, is she genuine?”
“If she isn’t, what becomes of your explanation?” Hyacinth asked.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter; at night all cats are grey. Whatever she is, she’s an idle, bedizened trifler; perhaps even a real profligate female.”
“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!”
“Do you suppose she’ll corrupt me?” Hyacinth demanded with an expression of face and a tone of voice which produced on his friend’s part an explosion of mirth.
“How can she, after all, when you’re already such a little mass of corruption?”