"Pouf!" she said calmly.
"Well then, who is there to object to our taking tea together?"
"Your guests, Monsieur O'Ryan."
"My guests!" I mimicked her gaily: "Pouf! for my guests, Clelia. Do you think you could find two glasses of fresh milk for yourself and for me?"
"With cream on it?" she inquired naïvely.
"Certainly."
She went back to the pantry. I heard Josephine demurring, then they both laughed, and Clelia reappeared with the milk and two more fresh tea-cakes.
We seated ourselves on the stone milk-bench in the cool, shadowy passageway.
"The way you behave with your servants," she remarked, "seems almost scandalous, doesn't it?"
"Outrageous," said I. "What does Josephine think?"