“I brought Shan’t with me; do you mind?”
“A maid?” he said. “A dyspeptic maid,” he added to himself.
“Well, she’s female—certainly—I’ll say that for her.”
Marcus would have allowed that himself—in spite of her addiction to zoölogical fare.
“She’s such a willing little beast. She won’t eat if I go away—so I had to bring her—see, my Once Was?”
“Oh, a dog? My dear Diana, of course, I can’t have it upstairs, but Pillar will be delighted to exercise the little beast—”
No dog explained the banana and the milk, but he said nothing.
“Dear child!”—he was feeling very fond of Diana—“I should like to see—whatever you call it—is it trained and—”
“Shan’t! Shan’t!” called Diana up the stairs. “Come! Hurry up!”
“It was a funny way to talk to a dog,” thought Marcus. If at that moment he had looked up from his paper he would certainly have thought it a funny dog that walked into the dining-room. “Well?”