“You mean that Tony is not a patch upon the late Mr. Vansittart—that is what you mean,” said Marguerite, condescendingly. “Then why does he stay in The Hague?”
Major White shrugged his shoulders and lapsed into a stolid silence, broken only by a demand made presently by Marguerite to the waiter for more bread and more butter. She looked at her companion once or twice, and it is perhaps not astonishing that she again concluded that he must be as dense as he looked. It is a mistake that many of her sex have made regarding men.
“Do you know Miss Roden?” she asked suddenly. “I have heard a good deal about her from Joan.”
“Yes.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Yes.”
“Very pretty?” persisted Marguerite.
“Yes,” replied the major.
And they continued their breakfast in silence.
Marguerite appeared to have something to think about. Major White was in the habit of stating that he never thought, and certainly appearances bore him out.