“Greengage, please.”
The greengages were on a table at the major's elbow, having been placed there at Marguerite's command by the waiter who attended them at breakfast. White made ready to pass the dish.
“Fingers,” said Marguerite. “Heave one over.”
White selected one with an air of solemn resignation. Marguerite caught the greengage as neatly as it was thrown.
“What do you think of Herr von Holzen?” she asked.
“To think,” replied the Major, “certain requisites are necessary.”
“Um—m.”
“I do not know Herr von Holzen, and I have nothing to think with,” he explained gravely.
“Well, you soon will know him, and I dare say if you tried you would find that you are not so stupid as you pretend to be. You are going down to the works this morning with Papa and Tony Cornish. I know that, because papa told me.”
The Major looked at her with his air of philosophic surprise. She held up her hand for a catch, and with resignation he threw her another greengage.