(They wondered had she heard?)
"I can trust him with Mrs. Brodrick."
(They thought it strange that she should not consider Mrs. Brodrick serious. They said nothing, and in a moment Rose explained.)
"She's like all these writin' people. I know 'em."
"Yes," said Prothero. "We're a poor lot, aren't we?"
(It was a mercy that she didn't take it seriously.)
"Oh you—you're different."
She had always had a very clear perception of his freedom from the literary taint.
"But Mrs. Brodrick now—she doesn't care for 'im. She's not likely to. She'll never care for anybody but herself."
"What makes you think so?"