"And mine's bl——" Jeanne was saying, but the cats, both speaking together this time, stopped her with a squeal of horror.
"Oh, oh, oh!" they said. "Where are your manners? You must never mention such a word. Your hair, Mademoiselle, is shadowy. That is the proper expression."
Jeanne was annoyed, and did not speak. Hugh felt himself bound to defend her from the charge of bad manners.
"You needn't be so sharp," he said to the cats; "your eyes are as green as they can be."
"Green doesn't count," said the right-hand cat, coolly.
"And how were we to know that?" said Hugh.
"I don't know," said the left-hand cat.
"Well, but can't you be sensible?" said Hugh, who didn't feel inclined to give in to two cats.
"Perhaps we might be if we tried," said the right-hand cat. "But——"
A sudden sound interrupted him. It was as if some one had moved a piece of furniture with squeaking castors.