“I wouldn’t trust him a yard.”
“Believe me, he doesn’t wish you to. He’s far too clever to desire the impossible.”
“Then he can stop desirin’ you.”
“Don’t be insulting, Fritz. Remember that by birth you are a gentleman.”
Lord Holme bit through his cigarette.
“Sometimes I wish you were an ugly woman,” he muttered.
“And if I were?”
She leaned forward quite eagerly on the sofa and her whimsical, spoilt-child manner dropped away from her.
“You ain’t.”
“Don’t be silly. I know I’m not, of course. But if I were to become one?”