“Well, you do look genteel,” she said with high complacency. “No wonder she has lost her head! I mean the Princess,” she explained. “You never went to any such expense for her ladyship.”
“My dear, the Princess is worth it, she’s worth it.” Which appeared at last on his part all seriously spoken.
“Will she help you very much?” Rosy demanded, as at the touch of it, with a strange, sudden transition to eagerness.
“Well,” said Paul, “that’s rather what I look for.”
She threw herself forward on her sofa with a movement that was rare with her and, shaking her clasped hands, exclaimed: “Then go off, go off quickly!”
He came round and kissed her as if he were not more struck than usual with her freakish inconsistency. “It’s not bad to have a little person at home who wants a fellow to succeed.”
“Oh I know they’ll look after me.” And she sank back on her pillow with an air of agreeable security.
He was aware that whenever she said “they,” without further elucidation, she meant the populace surging up in his rear, and he met it with his usual ease. “I don’t think we’ll leave it much to ‘them.’”
“No it’s not much you’ll leave to them, I’ll be bound.”
He gave a louder laugh at this and said: “You’re the deepest of the lot, Miss Muniment.”