“He is a man,” she answered.
“You hear that?” said Léon to Stubbs. “It is not too late for you. Mark the intonation. And now,” he continued, “what are we to give them?”
“Are you going to sing?” asked Stubbs.
“I am a troubadour,” replied Léon. “I claim a welcome by and for my art. If I were a banker could I do as much?”
“Well, you wouldn’t need, you know,” answered the undergraduate.
“Egad,” said Léon, “but that’s true. Elvira, that is true.”
“Of course it is,” she replied. “Did you not know it?”
“My dear,” answered Léon impressively, “I know nothing but what is agreeable. Even my knowledge of life is a work of art superiorly composed. But what are we to give them? It should be something appropriate.”
Visions of “Let dogs delight” passed through the undergraduate’s mind; but it occurred to him that the poetry was English and that he did not know the air. Hence he contributed no suggestion.
“Something about our houselessness,” said Elvira.