“Never mind; it’s a nice day for a walk.”
“But what about Granny? and what about the great Proconsul; and what about Lady Shelmerdine of Potterhanworth?”
“Oh, let ’em go to blazes—that is, old girl, I beg pardon.”
“I should just hope so. And let go my arm, Phil-ipp; people are looking at us.”
“Well, let’s cut back again.”
“But, Phil-ipp.”
“You said yourself that it was the nicest position in London, and only nine hundred and fifty a year, which seems rather ridiculous, considerin’—”
“Considering what, Phil-ipp?”
“Considerin’ the way they stick you for three rooms and a private bathroom.”
“Yes, Phil-ipp, but then think of the address!”