"But that was Rabbit!" Jill laughed. "I've never had any good clothes. Until my trousseau," she said proudly and glanced down at her simple dress.
McTaggart smiled in his heart, as, following up the train of thought, Jill proceeded, somewhat gravely, to hold forth on economy.
"I shan't cost you very much. I can make lots of things myself. And I expect, in a place like Siena, it doesn't matter what one wears. Oh, do tell me about your house?—or is it a flat?"
"Not exactly. I hope you won't be disappointed. It's rather a cheerless sort of place."
"I don't care if it's a barn!" The breeze had brought a bright colour into her cheeks, as they paced along, arm in arm, and she laughed aloud. "I don't care about anything! I'm just too glad to be alive. I'm awfully strong—I can learn to cook..." McTaggart hugged himself for joy.
"Oh, I hope it won't come to that. Mario might object."
Jill stopped suddenly, overwhelmed by a new thought.
"I say, Peter—what is he? Exactly, I mean. Is he ... your valet?"
"Yes—you know—over there—-wages are a mere trifle. And he's handy, in all sorts of ways."
"I see. Would he clean the windows?"