“Yes, missey,” the niggerling acquiesced, bestowing a slow smile on Snob and Snowball, who had accompanied him into the room. Easy of habit, as tropical animals are apt to be, it was apparent that the aristocratic pomeranian was paying sentimental court to the skittish mouser, who, since her περιπἑτεια of black kittens looked ready for anything.
“Sh’o, but she hab a way wid her!” Ibum remarked, impressed.
“Lil monster, take dem both, an’ den get out ob my sight,” his mistress directed him.
Fingering a battered volume, that bore the book-plate of Meraude, Vittorio appeared absorbed.
“Honey.”
“Well?”
“Noddin’.”
In the silence of the room a restless bluebottle, attracted by the wicked leer of a chandelier, tied up incredibly in a bright green net, blended its hum with the awakening murmur of the streets.
“Po’ Mimi. I hope she look up as she go by.”
“Yes, by Jove.”