“Not really?” said the young lady.
“Oh, yes! He has one of those heads which nothing can disturb; so valuable in these days.”
“And what sort of a heart?” asked the young lady, emitting a ring of smoke.
“Just as serene. I oughtn't to say so, but I think he's rather a wonderful machine.”
“So long as he's not a doctor! You can't think how they get on your nerves when they're, like that. I've bumped up against so many of them. They fired me at last!”
“Really? Where? I thought they only did that to the dear horses. Oh, what a pretty laugh you have! It's so pleasant to hear anyone laugh, in these days.”
“I thought no one did anything else! I mean, what else can you do, except die, don't you know?”
“I think that's rather a gloomy view,” said the old lady placidly. “But about your neighbour. What is his name?”
“Lavender. But I call him Don Pickwixote.”
“Dear me, do you indeed? Have you noticed anything very eccentric about him?”