Here, going to rub my chin (being somewhat at a loss), I found that I had been standing, all this while, the broom in one hand and the belt in the other, and now, hearing a laugh behind me, I turned, and saw Charmian was leaning in the open doorway watching me.
"And so you are the—the cove—with the white hands and the taking ways, are you, Peter?"
"Why—you were actually—listening then?"
"Why, of course I was."
"That," said I, "that was very—undignified!"
"But very—feminine, Peter!" Hereupon I threw the belt from me one way, and the broom the other, and sitting down upon the bench began to fill any pipe rather awkwardly, being conscious of Charmian's mocking scrutiny.
"Poor—poor Black George!" she sighed.
"What do you mean by that?" said I quickly.
"Really I can almost understand his being angry with you."
"Why?"