“Hasn’t she lost that already? Does she ever go there?”
“Surely you appear to think so from the way you always question her about it.”
“Well, they think her so mad already that they can’t think her any madder,” Rosy continued. “They’ve given her up, and if she were to marry you——”
“If she were to marry me they wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole,” Paul broke in.
She flinched a moment, then said serenely: “Oh I don’t care for that!”
“You ought to, to be consistent, though possibly she shouldn’t, admitting that she wouldn’t. You’ve more imagination than logic—which of course for a woman is quite right. That’s what makes you say that her ladyship’s in affliction because I go to a place she herself goes to without the least compulsion.”
“She goes to keep you off,” said Rosy with decision.
“To keep me off?”
“To interpose with the Princess—and in a sense to interfere against her. To be nice to her and conciliate her, so she mayn’t take you.”
“Has she told you any such rigmarole as that?” Paul inquired, this time staring a little.