"Well, I'm not irritated any more. But it is unfortunate, isn't it, that she—er—wheezes?"
He had tried before now to make Rose laugh. He wanted to see how she did it. It would be a test. And he perceived that, somewhere behind her propriety, Rose cherished a secret, iniquitous enjoyment of her aunt.
An imp of merriment danced in Rose's eyes, but the rest of her face was graver than ever. ("Good," he thought; "she doesn't giggle.")
"Oh, Mr. Tanqueray, talk of w'eezin', you should hear Aunt snore."
"I have heard her. In my dreams."
Rose, abashed at her own outburst, remained silent for several minutes. Then she spoke again.
"Do you think, sir, you could do without me on the tenth?"
"No. I don't think I could possibly do without you."
Her face clouded. "Not just for the tenth?"
"Why the tenth?"